A Muddle of Magic. Alexandra Rushe

had reached the southernmost parts of Finlara, but, in the northern reaches, winter still clung to the land. The coastline was craggy. Soaring cliffs and snowy mountains rose in the distance. They rounded a tongue of land and entered a wide bay. Ahead of them, an enormous shaft of rock rose from the water, a sea-scoured fist of granite barring their way. An archway had been hollowed out of the island of stone.

      “The first Vigil,” Raven said as they headed toward the huge jut of stone. “There are five in all, one for each Rowan. Ah, the lookout’s seen us.”

      Ah-ooh. Ah-ooh.

      Raine looked up at the deep blare. High above them, a sentry, noticing their approach, had sounded a sonorous warning on a gigantic, curved horn. At Raven’s nod, Gurnst raised a smaller horn to his lips and gave a tinny answer. They were given the signal to pass and the Storm sailed into the shadows of the vast arch and out again, into the wintry sunlight.

      They passed four more stony tors and were challenged at each Vigil by sentries. They negotiated the last watch station and rounded a cliff, and the Citadel came into view. Raine drew in a breath. The rowan’s holdfast was stark and grimly impressive, black towers of stone rising from the top of the escarpment. At the base of the fortress, stone battlements hugged the cliff face, suspended precariously above the lashing sea.

      To Raine’s surprise, the Storm veered away from the Citadel and the ships anchored in the harbor.

      “Why aren’t we docking?” she asked Raven.

      “The spring storms in the bay can be harsh, and I prefer to drop anchor in a more sheltered cove.” He looked down at her. “We must also consider Flame. People will be in an uproar when they see him. I thought it wiser to enter the city by one of the back gates.” His lips twitched in amusement. “Not that he won’t be noticed. Flame is rather conspicuous.”

      That was an understatement. Flame was big and getting bigger every day, his wing span increasing in proportion to his size. Raven had ordered the damage to the cabin wall repaired but had given instructions to leave the hole in the cargo bay, to give the dragon access to his favorite hiding place.

      Chaz was growing, too. The small boy she and Tiny had rescued in the wood had turned into an adolescent practically overnight.

      “Where’s Chaz?” Raine asked, realizing she hadn’t seen the boy all morning. “Have you seen him?”

      “Aye, he’s with Gurnst. The boy’s become his shadow.”

      “Oh, dear, I hope he isn’t making a nuisance of himself,” Raine said. “He used to pester poor Braxx to death.”

      “Captain Braxx? He’s a mean old river dog. Surprised he didn’t dump the boy in the Shara.”

      “I think he was tempted at first, but he came around.”

      “Gertie says you found the boy in the woods?”

      “Yes,” Raine said. “Tiny and I—” She broke off, swallowing. She missed the giant. “We rescued some children from Shaddish soldiers. They were going to sell them, I think.” With a shiver, she remembered the attack of the eaters, ferocious, mindless predators with wings. “We returned the children to their families when we reached the Shara River. All but Chaz, that is. No one claimed him.”

      “What do you know about him?”

      “Not much.” Raine thought about this. “I don’t think he has a family. Or, if he does, he doesn’t remember them.”

      “The boy’s strange. He’s gone from boy to stripling, practically overnight.”

      “I’ve noticed,” Raine said. “He and Flame seem to be growing at the same rate.”

      “The crew have marked the change in him.”

      “They have?” Raine sighed. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Captain Gorne. We’ve caused you no end of trouble.”

      “Captain Gorne? I thought we were friends.”

      “Are we?” She looked up at him with a little frown. “We’ve barely spoken in weeks.”

      “Mauric was right. I’ve had the crochets, but no more. Am I forgiven?”

      “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m your guest. What’s more, I owe you my life.”

      Raven grunted in pain and clutched his chest. “Harpooned,” he said. “Now I know how the sea monster felt.”

      Raine laughed and harmony between them was restored.

      As they sailed south along the rugged coast, the wind whistling off the stony peaks was chilly, and Raine pulled up the hood of her woolen cloak. They reached a wide cleft in the mountains and, at Raven’s shouted command, the Storm glided into the inlet. The fjord was nestled in a deep valley between a fold in the mountains. Misty waterfalls cascaded down the escarpment and plunged into the water below, sending ribbons of vapor into the air. Raine stood at the starboard rail, drinking in the view of towering peaks, blue-green firs, and crystalline coves. They passed the occasional cottage at the firth’s edge, one-story homes with thatched roofs and bright shutters. The waterway twisted and turned, winding past one picture postcard scene after another.

      Raine leaned over the rail for a closer look at the water. It was a clear, translucent green. As she gazed into the lucid depths, a huge reptilian creature slithered under the ship with a flip of its long, finned tail.

      Raine stumbled back. “There’s something in the water. Something big.”

      The lake boiled, and a monster surged from the depths at the ship’s bow, water sluicing off its scaly hide in torrents. The thing was huge and fish-belly white, with six arms and a bony misshapen head that ended in a crocodilian snout. Feathery fins framed the nightmarish face.

      Chaz stood at the helm with Gurnst. “What’s that?” the boy shouted, pointing at the scaly behemoth. “It’s a big ʼun.”

      “Lake devil,” Gurnst rumbled. “Watch and learn, boy.”

      Raven stepped onto the forecastle deck and raised his arm. His forearm gleamed with an intricate, writhing pattern of pale streaks. “Greetings, Cetos, warden of the lake. Finlara thanks you for your service.”

      The monster stared at him stupidly for a moment, then slid back into the water with a disgruntled hiss.

      Brefreton strolled up. “Unnerving, ain’t it?” he said. “The first time I saw one of those things, I nearly jumped overboard, which would have been a mistake.”

      “What the hell was that thing?” Raine asked, shaken.

      “One of the fuermyndar. Furies, the locals call them. They roam King’s Bay and the surrounding lochs and protect the Citadel from invaders. They were a gift from Kron to the first Rowan.”

      “It recognized Raven’s tattoo.”

      “That’s not a tattoo, girl. That’s the Mark of Finn.”

      “Oh,” Raine said, abashed. “Mauric doesn’t have the mark, and he and Raven are cousins.”

      “It happens that way in some families, even among siblings. One child will have the mark, another won’t. Sometimes, whole generations pass without it. Other families don’t have the mark atall. Finn was a lusty fellow, but he didn’t populate Finlara by himself. He brought his mother’s people with him, and it was a large tribe.”

      “What if no one on a ship has the Mark? How do they get past the furies?”

      “Kron gave Finn a cask of bronze seals stamped with a special signet when he gifted him with the furies. Those ships displaying the proper seal pass unmolested, as are ships under Finlaran escort.” He noticed her wizard stone with a frown. “Your wizard stone is showing. Have I not shown you how to make it disappear?”

      “No. You said it wouldn’t come off.”

      “I said disappear.