“Mainlander! You need to release the control lines on the mainsheet and the boom vang then luff the sail out.”

  “You are speaking gibberish,” I shouted over the slapping waves as the ropes flew free.

  The sail blew open, catching the wind, and sent the ship forward in a rush that made my stomach rise into my throat. Unsure of what end of the sky was up or if land was down, I hugged the mast like a lover as the ship picked up speed. Teryn called out my name. I wanted to reply but was unable to given I was trying to swallow down curdled fish and goat cheese. Having completed my task, I wobbled back to the ambassador, sat down, and reached for the small cup of tepid red tea he held out to me. Sipping it eased the dyspepsia, as did the settling of the ship as it skimmed along the tips of the waves, the ocean breeze now strong at our backs.

  “You seem a bit unsteady on a ship,” Teryn pointed out as we moved out to sea, the only lights seen now were the soft runes glowing on the captain.

  “I have not spent much time on a boat,” I confessed.

  “Aye, that was obvious,” Porgo called over his shoulder. I lifted a lip but remained still. My gut seemed less bilious if I sat still, my eyes on the teacup in my hand, and did not try to cast my sight about. “Mainlanders. Pah.”

  Teryn said something in Sandrayan to the captain and patted my knee. I dared to look up from my tea to see his shadowed face illuminated by the subtle radiance of wind whisperer runes alighting both ship and elven sailor.

  “Do not take his ribbing to heart. Our fishermen and sailors are a loud and sometimes querulous bunch, but they have good souls.”

  “I take no real umbrage. Soldiers are much alike in how they tease those who do not understand the life of a man of battle. How did he come to be in your service?” I asked, fluffing off his worry about my feelings. I grew up rough, teased and called names by the more affluent children we would meet on the street. My cousin nor I were tender rosebuds who required protection from the sharpness of a salty sea captain’s verbal pruning shears. The ship hit a large wave, and even though I was riding higher up on the surface, the rolling settled in my tender stomach, causing me to belch softly.

  “That is a story that only Porgo can tell,” Teryn replied, adding a bit more tea to my nearly empty cup. Pot in hand, he tipped his head, the dangles in his ear sliding over his darkly robed shoulder. “You sound odd. Are you not feeling well?”

  “I overate at dinner.” I forced a smile as the ship, gold horn now coated in something dark to make us less noticeable as a dignitary vessel, sailed along under the light of two fat moons, leading us further from the shore. The motion was growing stronger the farther out we sailed. Finding any comfort from the tea was growing more difficult. A cool wind on the back of my sweaty neck was a joyous but small consolation. “Do not mix salted cod with soft onion goat cheese,” I tossed out in an attempt at humor. “I shall be fine shortly.”

  I was not fine shortly.

  As the ship moved out to sea and took a southerly route to cut through a small spit of land called the Isle of Petrels, my illness grew worse. By the time we had cleared the small clump of land where dusky sea petrels congregated to nest, I was propped up over the railing of the Simin Draya vomiting violently, lightheaded, and sweating profusely. Never had I been this sick. My mouth was coated with old fish and sour cheese. My knees were weak. Bone-deep fatigue pulled at me as I slid ungraciously to my knees. Teryn, at my side throughout the wretched ordeal, eased me to my feet, his arm around me, and led me to the area under the canvas.

  “It seems you have emptied yourself,” he said while I teetered to the left, falling into a pile of pillows. Porgo had been muttering to himself throughout, waving his arms about, his gold and silver bangles clattering loudly. My head ached from the sound of bracelet on bracelet. If I were able, I would cleave his damn forearms from his body and toss the noisy stubs over the side of the boat. But I was not able. I could not even raise my head. “I suspect you are stricken either with a bout of befouled food or the sickness of sea travel.”

  “Mainlanders,” Porgo spat out. I was too weak to form a reply, but it would have been cutting, of that I was sure.

  “Try to sip some tea.” Teryn cupped the back of my head to dribble some tea into my dry lips. The cool drink felt wonderful as it slid down my tender throat. I was sure I had vomited pure dragon fire, given how sore my throat was, but no, it had only been rancid cheese and fish.

  “I may never eat fish again,” I groaned, rolling to my back to stare at the canvas flapping overhead. A sour belch rolled out of me. I broke out in a cold sweat. The tea threatened to come back up as a wave of nausea swept over me. “You must be disappointed in your choice of protector. Spot the kitten would be a more dangerous guardian than I right now.”

  “You are a fine guardian.” He held up the cup once more, the rim smooth and cool where it touched my lower lip. I drank lightly, unsure of my heaving gut. “I could not have chosen better. Lie down now. Close your eyes. Rest. We have a few hours more to go, then we will find a shallow lagoon in the small Gulf of Renedith. There we will hide while Porgo rests and you recuperate.”

  That sounded terrible. There were small bands of scavengers that roamed the edges of the Renedith coast. They scavenged wreckages and the like and were known for their brutality when finding shipwrecked survivors. The Renedith guard had battled with them for centuries, but they were hard to bring to heel as they seemingly arrived like vultures when a ship ran ashore and swam off when they had pilfered what they wished. Many along the coast whispered that they were half-elf and half-fish…

  A wave of sickness hit me once more. Thankfully, there was naught left inside of me to bring up, so I retched aggressively. “Mighty Ihdos, I swear on the feet of your most…sacred toes I shall never…touch goat or fish cheese again.”

  Teryn moved closer. The smell of sand sage arriving on the wind to push away the stink of sickness. He placed a cool, wet cloth on my brow. I sighed. “If my son were here, he would know just what herbs to grind or brew to ease your discomfort. Sadly, my skills are not of the healing variety, but we will do what we can to ease your malady. Try to rest, Pasil.”

  The touch of that chilled cloth and the sound of his voice eased me into an exhausted slumber filled with fever dreams. Crabs feasting on my face as I lay dying in the sand…being pulled into the sea by a creature with a gaping maw of a mouth…the howl of a yeti losing its hand and the snow around us speckled with rich, red blood…

  Coming awake, I moved to my side, eyes glued shut with unshed tears, the foulness of sickness on my tongue. I lay still, the warmth of the sun falling on the canopy. The sound of ocean birds, the lap of the sea on the wooden sides of the ship, and the rousing snore of a man a few feet away greeted me. Rubbing at my gummy eyes, I eased myself up to one arm, resting on my left hip, and found that my malady was much improved. The rocking of the ship, gentle now, was still making my gut sway, but not so badly. Tentatively, I moved to sit on my backside, pleased to see that Teryn had curled up behind me. I ran a hand over his hip as he slept. One leg was bared, his feet free of sandals. The gold charms lay on his shoulder in the crease where his arm met his neck. I longed to place my lips on that spot, but my mouth was foul.

  Slowly getting to my feet, fatigue feeling like a deadweight around my neck, I made my way to the rail to look out at a tiny cove. Soft white sands met the Silvura. The chirps of the tawny pipers as they walked along the beach on thin, long legs rose up to meet me. Hand shielding my eyes, I looked skyward. The moon sisters were gone. The sun rested overhead, so it was perhaps half day or a bit later. There were no signs of people near the water’s edge. But far in the distance, one could hear the bells of a small temple pealing. So yes, close to midday. A barrel of fresh water sat along the rail. I moved to it then dipped a ladleful, drinking long and deep. The water hit my gut with a splash, touching off a shuddering fit that made me sweat slightly. My gut was a mess still, obviously, but the water had stayed down. So far. Sipping from the ladle, I looked out over the sea. Porgo snorted loudly in his sleep.

  The sea seemed peaceful. I dumped some water over my head, shook like a hound, and then drank more, and then more, until my stomach was full. The sun was warm on my head. I tipped my face up to let it bathe my cheeks. If I could summon the strength, I would drop over the side to let my feet touch dry land. It would be a test of sorts to see if my infirmity came from the barracks food or the lurching of the ocean. Deep down, I prayed it would be the food, for we had a long sea journey to make, and I could not do my job if I were vomiting all over myself like a newborn.

  With a clearer mind—somewhat—even though a lingering ache behind my eyes persisted, I calculated we were anchored in a small inlet. There were numerous white and black hydrawood trees to shelter us from the sun and prying eyes. Porgo had done a fine job of sailing us into the narrow tidewater backwash. A splash off the front of the ship grabbed my attention. Keeping a hand on the rail, for my legs were not seaworthy—or even landworthy, I suspected—I made my way to the prow of the ship. Ripples cascaded outward from where a large fish had surfaced. Rubbing my chest to help with the burn left over from being ill, I studied the clear blue water.

  Small schools of lemon darts streaked by. They were bright yellow fish with small black dots on their fins. A few longer fish, ones that I did not know by sight, followed the lemon darts. Perhaps hunting. Looking down made my head ache, so I righted, padded over to the other side, and scanned the area for land. A small break in the tangled roots of the hydrawood trees revealed a short stretch of beach. The shore was coated with shells and dead seaweed, but it was land. Peeling off my black outfit until I stood in my small clothes, I eased over the side of the ship into the ocean.

  The waves here were subtle crests, barely enough to notice as I swam along toward the sand, eager to find a tiny oasis of solid ground. The distance was short, thankfully, as my skills at keeping afloat were low. One did not spend much time swimming when one grew up in the western skids. The only water was that which flowed along the worn cobblestone streets. Not exactly an ideal place to play, although we did when the sun was hot. How any of us survived to adulthood was a miracle indeed. Splashing about now in the runoff of a butcher shop, the rainwater thick with offal, made me wince.

  I found solid footing quickly—soft, warm sand I could bury my toes into. Head throbbing a low beat, stomach tender, legs still wobbly as a newborn doeling, I pushed out of the water and dropped to my knees in the sand, just along the shore.

  “Ihdos, thank you,” I whispered skyward. There was no sun here, the thick fronds of the hydrawood blocking out the rays. Feeling no motion under me, I cracked a smile, fell to my stomach, and lay there, arms akimbo, cheek in the sand. Oh, the glory of land. The sea was not my calling, nor my mistress, nor even my friend. The Silvura was an evil entity hellbent on watching me die a slow, miserable death. My eyes drifted shut as I lay there mentally cursing the ocean and all who inhabited it. Perhaps not the lemon darts, for they were fetching fish, but all others that called the sea their home were unkind.

  How long I slept there on the warm sands, I had no clue. A skittering sensation on my bare foot pulled me from a dreamless slumber. Kicking out, I moved to my side, licked my lips, and got a mouthful of sand. Spitting the tiny granules out, something tickled the sole of my foot. I booted at whatever it was. A sound OOF! followed by a splash brought me to full wakefulness. Scurrying to my knees, I saw Teryn splashing about in the lagoon.

  I chuckled at him as he righted himself and paddled his arms gently in the brackish water, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

  “That is what one deserves when one tickles the foot of the bronze warrior. A firm kick to the chest and a dunking in the sea,” he called out and moved to his back to float atop the tranquil surges of the sea. He was naked, his soft cock and heavy balls on display for all the birds above us to see.

  “Apologies,” I said, sitting up, my eyes feasting on him. Even with my stomach a rotted mess and my head muzzy, I could not look away. The water kissing his dark flesh made him appear to be oiled. That brought back memories of our night together. It seemed as if many seasons had passed when in reality it was two eves ago. “Why are you not wearing your small clothes?”

  He chuckled, sliding under the water and bobbing up a moment later, bits of seaweed sticking to his hair as he padded over and left the water. My gaze lingered on his lean thighs as he walked closer and knelt in the sand.

  “Why are you wearing small clothes?” he asked, studying me closely. “Your color seems better.”

  “Having something under my feet that does not heave and haw surely helps.” He reached out to touch my cheek, his fingers soft as they traced my jaw.

  “Yes, I feared the problem might be sea illness. There is little to do for that other than stay off boats, and we are unable to do that, sadly.”

  “I shall be fine,” I stated with a bravado that I did not truly feel.

  “That sounds quite familiar.” He placed his palm on my brow. My eyes drifted closed. “You feel less heated, a good sign. Perhaps we will have to rethink our method of arriving at the Blood Fens.”

  A large blue parrot arrived, landed above us, and instantly left once it saw us looking at it. The bird’s long tail feathers trailed behind it as it burst through the canopy, giving us a quick shot of hot sun before the fronds closed back up to shade us.

  “Unless you have means of flying, there is no other way,” I commented, wishing I had some of the clean water aboard the boat. But that would mean climbing back onto the ship. Thinking of the rocking motion of last night made my abdomen clench.

  “That is true, in part.” He lowered his hand from my face to sit beside me. His ass and balls would be covered with sand. He seemed unworried about it. “But we can lessen the time spent on a ship. We should put into a port on the main island and then journey overland until we must ferry ourselves through the smaller isles to reach the Blood Fens.”

  “That will add time to the trip, will it not?” I was loathe to shoot the idea down. Less time on that blasted rolling ship would truly be a blessing but losing time could be dangerous to the prince and princess. If we failed to show up in time…

  “Perhaps a day or two if we dally. I know the islands well. The peoples who live there and the fastest ways to cross the land.” He looked from the bold fronds overhead to me. “There was much truth in your words of last night.”

  “I recall little of last night after we left the sea cave other than praying for an immediate death while vomiting my innards into the sea.”

  He gave my bare thigh a pat, leaving his hand lying there. I allowed his hand to linger, for I found comfort in his touch. When he went to move it, I placed mine over his long fingers. Nothing was said about it, but we both knew that encouraging more intimacy between us was courting disaster should things on this mission go badly.

  “You said many things, most of them prayers to your god, but one utterance was that you were little use as a guardian if you were splayed out on the deck disgorging your entrails.”

  “True.” I could not argue that. Actually, I was proud of myself for being so lucid during that episode.

  “So, we will put into a smaller port on the western side of the main island, hire a few quadoth, and set out to cross the land until we reach the northern beaches where Porgo will have acquired a smaller vessel to ferry us to the basalt pillar.”

  I recalled seeing the beasts called quadoth at the castle several seasons ago. They were massive, humped beasts, with light yellow hair, long necks, flat feet, and thick eyelashes, and grunted in low, raspy tones.

  “Are there no horses on your islands?” I asked and then had my attention drawn to the ship as a lewd shanty began to be sung as Porgo relieved himself over the side of the boat, his blue skirt tucked into its waistband to keep it free from the stream of urine. “Do none on your lands feel the slightest bit of modesty?”

  That made Teryn laugh soundly. “My people are not as prudish as yours. We are freer in our manners of speech, our expressions of love, and the comfort of our own bodies. You will see many Sandrayans forgoing clothing or sleeping with multiple partners. The goddess Shamsira encourages her children to live as a community, spreading ourselves to others as needed or wished, joining together to raise the children of the Black Sands as a whole. You will not see so many poor here as you do in the grand cities of the mainland, for we work to feed all, love all, welcome all.”

  “Yet you have Sandrayans who are members of the Court of the Gray Ice just as we who live on the mainland do,” I pointed out. I would freely admit that my people were bound too tightly by rigid rules of conduct and religious doctrine, but we were not wholly bad.

  “We do.” He sighed deeply. “It seems that no matter how social a society is, there are those who wish to topple it for their own reasons. I suspect that we elves, no matter the coloration of our skin, deal with many similar problems.”

  “That might be what helps us come closer,” I offered. The look that Teryn gave me made my already tender stomach flip over like a raw steak on a hot griddle.

  “Sun’s about to set soon, Mahouk. Time to come aboard, eat, and get underway. Nights are short this time of year,” Porgo shouted from the deck of the ship.

  I loathed the thought, yet I rose and entered the water, swimming to the Simin Draya with no joy in my heart. Porgo tossed a rope over the side to scale. I shimmied up with ease, not as smoothly as I might have had I not spent the previous evening retching up my intestines, but I made it. The gentle rock of the waves was present, obviously, but my time on land seemed to have helped quell the nausea. I turned to help Teryn up the rope, but he required no aid, his muscles straining and flexing beautifully as he clambered up the side of the ship.

  “Porgo, we have to make a slight adjustment to our trip. Given that Pasil has such an adverse reaction to the sea, we will put ashore in the port of Yaza Kee and then ride overland to reach the smaller northern isles,” Teryn announced as he slipped into his robes. The captain of the ship threw me a dark glower.