Page 57 of Valour

“No! Look around you. You think we’re getting out of here in one piece? You think they’ll all make it?” He thrust a hand upwards, to where the crews were gathered, eating breakfast. “The whaling captains warned us about the ice.”

Hester closed her eyes, panic bubbling, and then her magic sputtered and died, finally spent after months away from land. She raised her eyes to the ceiling and thanked God, or Neptune, or whoever was listening. Maybe the beast wouldn’t be able to locate them now. She slumped against the wall in relief.

“I am coming for you.”

A thud rocked the ship and she gasped, staggering to hold her balance. “Shit.”

“What the Hell was that?”

“It’s back,” she said. “It’s back. We need to get out. Now.”

She grasped his hand and dragged him to the steps, pushing him ahead of her.

The ship rocked and lurched, and the crew above them started to move, yells and cries and crashing pots sounding.

Septimus whirled on her. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“The orca—it can sense when I—use magic.” She pushed him ahead of her, both of them bursting into the galley.

“ABANDON SHIP.” His voice was loud.

Tears burned in her eyes. The floor beneath Hester’s feet rocked, and she fell forwards, cracking her hip against the table. Pain shunted through her. And then the floor slanted away, everyone skidding and falling, the plates sliding from the table as the ship heeled over at a steep angle, the grinding ice a scream in her ears.

The Valour.

Had the orca seen it too?

But the Valour sat higher in the ice. It was possible it hadn’t been spotted.

The crews were scrambling to get out on deck, and a hand shoved her from behind. Septimus’s broad hand forcing her on behind the others. “Get out.”

She turned, locking eyes with him. “I’m sorry.” Words could not convey how sorry she was.

He shoved her again. “Get. Out.”

She dashed for the door, stumbling along the corridor, up the steps of the companionway, out into the dark. Footsteps pounded, the rest of the crew running behind. Winston grabbed her hand, hauling her to the ramp and down to the ice, where the stacks of stores had already been evacuated. The dogs bayed around them. Her whole body turned numb.

Hester looked back at the Intrepid and cried out as the ship crumpled in the middle, plumes of icy water reaching into the sky. Two of the masts snapped in half, swinging down to the deck and piercing it, wood splintering. The shouts and screams of the crew rang into the night air, and she clutched Winston’s arm, beginning to shake. There was a sickening crunching and grinding, and the ice beneath their feet shuddered.

“Septimus. Where is Septimus?” Hester spun, scanning the horrified faces of the two crews, searching for his hulking presence.

He wasn’t there.

20

IN WHICH LIFE WOULD BE HOPELESSLY DULL AND AN ACCUSATION IS MADE

“Septimus!” Hester bellowed, searching each face. It was so hard to see in the dark.

There was no sign of him.

She ran back to the ramp, and Winston grabbed for her.

“Hester! You can’t,” he pleaded.

The ship shuddered again and crumpled further, water now covering the middle section of the deck as it folded in on itself.

Hester pulled away from his grip, dashing up the ramp and onto the slippery deck. She clung to anything she could get her hands on, slipping and sliding to the companionway entrance.