“Incoming.”
There is no more time for discussion. The arachnida is out of the rigging, descending at us with unnerving alacrity. I feel the moment Soren drops his impenetrable mental guards, the ones I have never before been able to breach. One moment, I am standing on dry land, parched for connection; the next, I am drowning in him. His maegic swells, infusing the bond with so much raw strength, my knees buckle beneath its force. It is like a rogue wave that sweeps you out to sea without warning. But his grip is firm on mine, holding my body up even as my feeble mind strains beneath the influx of power.
I have no real instruction, only instinct as my guide. Blindly, I pull at the bond. Pull his maegic into mine. Into me. Much, I realize belatedly, as I did the day I extinguished Penn’s fire in the ward chamber.
Unlike Penn, Soren does not resist me. He flows in like water, his mind closing around mine as the ocean does after a dive into the depths. Cool and crisp and calm, churning through me with melodic currents.
I gasp at the unfamiliar sensation. My own maegic—always so wild, so untamable—feels somehow soothed into quiet, subdued by his steady tides. Like a tight embrace that settles a ragged sob; the strong arms that squeeze until hysteria subsides.
I am still me. Still Rhya. But somehow, I am Soren, too. I canfeel him there, inside my mind. Around it. Encompassing it. And for the first time since I tapped into my Remnant, the frenetic chaos of my inner wind does not seem like something to fear. Through Soren’s eyes, I see it differently. It is not one entirety, one unstoppable tempest. Just as the most fathomless ocean could be broken down into tides, then currents, then individual droplets, so, too, could the storm inside me be dismantled into manageable pieces. I sense them all there inside me, together and yet separate, functioning as a whole and also as singular fragments. From the swirling black clouds of condensation to the ribbonlike breezes that whip beneath. From the strongest gusts to the thinnest wisps to the tiniest, individual, invisible particles of air.
I cannot say why this revelation makes such a difference in my mindset. Perhaps there is a certain comfort in knowing that while I might not ever wield a tempest with any grace…a handful of particles are a far more manageable feat. Something I can bend to my will. Something I can shape and steer with, if not Soren’s elegant insouciance, at least a semblance of it. Perhaps it is his unshakable confidence I am feeling, not my own.
Whatever the case, as my free arm lifts up to the rapidly descending creature, it is with an assuredness like never before. I call the wind and it comes to me—not as an uncontrollable shock wave, not as a clumsy blast that more often than not misses its target. No. This time, when it leaves my fingertips, it is as one single stream of air.
The condensed shot strikes the arachnida in the center of its abdomen. A direct hit. It shrieks, a sound of pure agony, as the impact penetrates the dense flesh of its exoskeleton. The force of the blow rockets the spider back several paces before it drops like a stone to the deck with a thud that makes the boards creak. Black fluid spurts from its wound. I think it is blood, but it frothslike acid, chewing through the wood in a matter of seconds. Both Soren and I vault several steps out of range of the deadly spray.
For a moment, I stand utterly frozen, watching the foul creature twitch in pain. Once the shock wears off, a wave of undeniable exhilaration sweeps through me.
I’ve done it.
I’ve actually done it.
My head whips toward Soren. The grin on my cheeks is so wide, it almost hurts. “Did you see that?”
He looks like he’s suppressing a smile of his own. “See what?”
Scowling at him, I squeeze his fingers hard enough to turn his bones to dust. He doesn’t seem to notice. He is already turning his attention back to the arachnida.
Wounded it may be; defeated it is not. Even now, it is pushing itself upright, shaking off the stupor of its fall to fix its myriad eyes once more in our direction. An irate hiss vibrates from between its jaws as its forelegs dance menacingly against the ruined deck.
“You’re not finished yet,” Soren says. “Don’t celebrate prematurely.”
“I wasn’t,” I grumble.
The arachnida musters enough strength to attack. As it comes at us, I feel oddly calm—a feeling I have not experienced since we first stepped foot on this cursed ship. Actually, if I look a bit deeper…It is a feeling I have not experienced for far longer than a few moments. For months now I have been on edge, living in constant anticipation of new threats materializing around every corner. A state of perpetual vigilance. But now my mind is bathed in the cool waters of Soren’s maegic. My breaths are even, my pulse steady. My hand does not even shake as I lift it once again and fire another concentrated air missile.
The infernal creature learns all too quickly. It manages to sidestep at the last moment, taking the hit on its left flank instead of directly to the abdomen. One of its eight legs falls to the deck, still spasming as it spurts more toxic black ichor that erodes into the lower hold. The spider’s anguished screech is at such a decibel, it raises all the hair on the back of my neck. It lurches sideways, unaccustomed to its mismatched gait, but soon finds its balance. Before I can blast again, it stages a quick retreat, spinnerets firing web after web as it ascends up the mast.
“Stop it before it gets to the crow’s nest,” Soren orders, his grip tightening on mine as more of his maegic flows into me. My whole arm tingles with it. “Otherwise we’ll never get the damned thing down.”
I shoot off another air missile, but the bulbous body is moving too fast for it to do more than clip a leg at the joint.
I expel a frustrated breath. “It’s too fast!”
“Again, might I suggestaiming?”
“I’m trying!”
“Remind me to add target practice to our long list of necessary training exercises.”
A vexed growl rattles in my throat. But the sound turns to a surprised gasp as Soren drops my hand. My fingers flex at empty air, desperately seeking a severed connection. The sudden loss of his maegic, his mastery, hits me like a punch to the gut. I think my legs will collapse, that the new void in my chest might stretch and stretch until it swallows me from the inside out.
“Wait!” I cry. “You can’t just leave me!”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you—”