Page 165 of Blade of the Nightking

I resisted the urge to bury my face in my hands.

Rìan gave a single nod.

The skiff rocked treacherously as he pulled us away from the dock and out into the restless waters of Half Moon Bay. Noctharis slowly receded behind us, its dark cliffs and weathered towers dissolving into the gloom.

I watched until the city became little more than a haze against the horizon.

And I prayed to the Seven with everything I had that it would be the last time I ever laid eyes on it.

CHAPTER 35

Rìan rowed in silence.

He guided the sloop through the reefs at the mouth of the bay, navigating channels I would never have spotted myself. Jagged rock lurked beneath the water on either side of us, rising like the bones of some long-dead beast. One wrong turn would’ve dashed the skiff to pieces, yet he steered us through confidently, as though the sea were no more dangerous than a cobbled road.

Every swell felt as though it might tip us over. The little sloop pitched and rolled beneath me, climbing each wave only to plunge into the trough beyond. I'd always imagined my first time on a boat would be exciting. Instead, all I wanted was solid ground. I tightened my grip on the gunwale until my knuckles ached.

When we cleared the reefs and reached open water, Rìan loosed the sail. It filled at once, straining against the mast as the wind claimed it. The boat heeled gently, then surged forward with startling speed. The sea breeze raked through his damp hair, sweeping the dark strands back from his face.

The bitter edge of the morning eased as the sun climbed steadily above the horizon. The breeze softened, and the sea gradually calmed beneath us. Rìan lifted his face toward the growing light. His eyes slipped closed as though savoring its warmth.

Three centuries behind the Veil. Three centuries without a sunrise. I wondered if he'd ever believed he'd feel the sun on his skin again.

I didn't realize I was watching him until a deafening blast shattered the silence. A towering plume of water erupted from the sea scarcely twenty yards from the skiff.

I yelped and scrambled backward, nearly tumbling from the bench as another explosion of spray burst into the air beside the first. Rìan's eyes snapped open. He turned toward the disturbance, and to my astonishment, the corner of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly before he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“What—” The word died in my throat as a massive shape rolled beneath the surface. The water bulged upward as an enormous dark thing broke through the sea, glistening in the sunlight.

A whale.

Another surfaced farther off. Then another.

A dozen dark forms moved gracefully through the water around us. Plumes of mist burst skyward, broad backs gleaming before they slipped beneath the waves once more.

Seeing them from afar hadn’t prepared me for this.

One surfaced close enough that I could make out the pale scars and crusted growths clinging to its skin. The creature passed beneath our tiny skiff, dwarfing it so completely that my heart leapt into my throat. Yet it slipped by without so much as rocking the boat, impossibly gentle for something so enormous.

Another whale glided by. At first, I thought it was merely smaller than the others, but as it rose from the water I realized it was young. A calf.

It swam pressed close against a larger whale, following her every movement, rising and sinking with the swells in perfect rhythm. The mother paused as they passed, and for a moment one dark eye broke the surface. It fixed on me, far too knowing for an animal of the sea, an ancient and watchful gaze that seemed to consider me before she slipped beneath the waves once more and rejoined the rest of the pod, her calf snugly at her side.

My vision blurred as I watched them go. Somehow I was smiling even as tears gathered in my eyes, the pod growing smaller and smaller until they were little more than dark shapes on the horizon.

Only then did I drag my gaze away.

Rìan was watching me, a strange expression on his face. After a moment, he reached for the tiller and adjusted our course.

Ahead of us, the mainland of Elantis grew steadily closer.

The forest crowded thick against the shore, dark and forbidding.

The Thornlands had been home to towering giants that blotted out the sky, trees so massive that a dozen people linking hands couldn't have encircled their trunks. These were ordinary by comparison, yet they crowded together so densely that they formed an almost unbroken wall of green. Moss draped from their branches in long swaying curtains and furred the bark in shades of silver and emerald.

Birds called somewhere high above the canopy while insects droned and chirred in the undergrowth. Every so often a distant cry echoed through the trees, strange and unfamiliar.

Behind me, water splashed as Rìan dragged the skiff farther onto the beach. His trousers were rolled to his knees as he waded through the shallows, the powerful muscles of his arms flexing as he hauled the boat clear of the tide line. Once it was secure, he leaned in and pulled out his pack—nearly twice the size of mine.