Page 59 of Nyall

The current slowly poured across the deck, emptying into the hatch.

“Ah, fack me.” He glanced at the sand bar before he hurried over and climbed down the ladder.

Water slowly swirled around the weathered planks of the hold, collecting itself and taking on a brighter glow. It rose from the deck to shape and turn itself into a large mortal with a stout body. Hooked claws sprouted from the ends of his thick fingers, and his ears grew to sharp points. He glared with his large black eyes before he spat on the deck. So it had always been between them since Lugh had turned his back on the halfling and left home to return to the druid tribe that had fostered him and create Haven.

“They’re no’ my witches,” Lugh said, folding his arms. “They captured my boat, and took prisoner my vassals. I bargained thus so they’d spare most of them; the rest shall return reborn. Reckon you ’twould be anything tempt me come into your water, old man?”

MacLeir went over and sat down at the table, still giving him an ugly look as he stretched out his hands palm-up. Since he knew if the old man spoke, the boat would fall to pieces around them, Lugh went over to sit across from him. He waited before taking hold of his hands to make his reluctance clear.

The table and the hold vanished, leaving them facing each other in a dark gray void.

“They’re but halflings that serve that mad enchantress,” MacLeir bellowed like an angry bull. In this place his voice sounded just as loud and frightening, but could harm nothing in the mortal realm. “They slay helpless mortals so they may steal their bodies and their lives. Why didnae you sink the boat and drown them?”

“Forget you I’m a fisherman, no’ a warrior?” He pulled up his sleeve, revealing the stone bracelet he wore that shielded him from other Fae. “I live as a mortal, and I shall do only as a mortal may, just as I vowed to you when I left for good. Besides, ’tis my facking boat. Why should I sink her?”

“I gave Mar my vow I’d protect his sons from their sovereign.” MacLeir’s face reddened. “Caladh’s so close if you spit ’twill land on a MacMar’s face. Collect these eejit females and take them away.”

Always with the old man it was about what he desired, without an inkling of respect for Lugh’s own wonts. He’d always thought McLeir foolish for pledging to abide among and safeguard the clan, for it compelled him to live as they did, a life that ill-suited him. Yet since he had done the same with his magic folk, he could not fault him for it.

“They need the night on the island, and then we shall sail south,” he said. “’Tis the best I may offer.”

MacLeir looked as if he might wield his power against him for a moment, and then his shoulders sagged. “Why dinnae you ever listen, lad? They’re half-Therion, so they cannae ken remorse or decency. Only blood and death shall ever appease them.”

“They dinnae ken much of their own nature, and naught of others.” He hesitated before he said, “They’re a pitiful lot, and I reckon much more despair awaits them. When they ken how they’ve been deceived, ’twill serve as proper punishment.”

MacLeir shook his head. “Never I reckoned fostering you with mortals should make you as mawkish as them. Very well. Keep your word and take them south in the morn. I shall make for Caladh and warn the MacMar.”

Lugh released his hands, and suddenly the void melted back into the hold. He stood and bowed to the old man, who came around the table and gave him a rough embrace before he dissolved into a pool of sparkling water. Once it had funneled itself up through the hatch, he followed, and stood at the railing as MacLeir’s true form streamed over the side of the boat and splashed into the sea. Blue-green lights twinkled for a moment as the current raced north, and then faded from sight.

Had he still cared about the old man, his abrupt departure without a word of kindness might have wounded him. Instead Lugh experienced a welcome sense of relief. “Farewell, Sire.”

Caroline carried the last bundle of provisions to the dock, where Nyall and Jamaran had put everything else in the boat they’d be sailing to the island. The hull of the long, narrow skiff had been covered with dull white and gray tanned hides that matched the wide sail on its single mast. The main and quarter decks appeared to be made of light blue wood at first glance, but as she got closer she realized it had been painted with something to make it appear the same color as the sea water. Although the boat resembled a flimsy, oversize canoe, when the commander helped her step down it barely moved in the water.

“This is one of the Selseus’s ghost boats, right?” she asked, glancing over the side to see unfamiliar markings that appeared embossed in the material of the hull. “I’ve never seen anything like this. At night it must be practically invisible on the water.”

“’Tis our custom sail beyond the barrier after dark,” Jamaran said as he raised the long triangular sails, while Nyall retreated to the back of the boat. “None of the fishers from the mainland venture as far north as Caladh, yet we sometimes encounter raiders and slave transports.”

Caroline went back to the stern, where her other lover stood beside the long tiller attached to the rudder. Although everything on the boat seemed primitive, the simple, sleek design and lightweight materials used to build it probably allowed the craft to fly over the water.

“If this goes as fast as I think it will, I want one,” she told him as she leaned over to look at the rudder. “Have you ever sailed one of these before now?”

“Aye.” He put his arm around her waist. “After Tiree died I oft escaped the stronghold, and sometimes went with Merrick and his men on patrols.” His gazed shifted to Jamaran. “I sailed with them the day the king went in search of our friend.”

“Were you part of the rescue team?” When he nodded she grimaced. “That must have been terrible.”

“Aye, for Jamaran had already drowned,” Nyall told her. “I reckoned him dead, only Merrick sensed a spark of life still within him. I held him in the water to keep his body from sinking while the king transformed him.”

Caroline flashed back to what Merrick had told her when they’d first met. I ken, for I hear every thought in his head. “Could that have affected both of you?”

He stiffened. “I yet lived, and I’m half-Fae. The Selseus may change only mortals.”

“It’s just that you did change after that. Merrick and Jamaran can read each other’s thoughts, too, remember? So there’s that, and a few other things.” She didn’t want to upset him again, so she shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, I guess.”

“What more?” he said, frowning.

“Well, you love the water as much as Jamaran does, and you swim just as fast. The only thing you’re missing are the gills. I don’t know how the process works, but after Merrick saved him you instantly became best friends. In a lot of ways you’re like two halves of the same person.” Caroline watched his expression. “Maybe your Fae blood is what kept you breathing air and living on land, but otherwise...”

“Merrick’s power changed us both.” Nyall looked over at Jamaran, who was watching them. Instead of scowling, however, his mouth curved into a smile. “’Twould explain much.”