Vol 6, Chapter 25, END OF VOLUME SIX

◆ Center of the World, Espluar, Asha's POV. ◆

The darkness of the hold was barely pushed back by the bluish glow of a magical lamp swaying on the wall. It flickered and sputtered, threatening to go out at any moment.

The ship's healer checked the captain's pulse, pressed an amulet to his chest, listened to his faltering Gift, and gave an important nod.

"Classic magical exhaustion sliding into a comatose state," he announced proudly.

"We can already see he's overstrained," the navigator grimaced. "When will the captain wake up?"

"When? That depends on the circumstances. On how soon we can get him away from this accursed place."

"And how are we supposed to do that without a water mage?"

The question hung in the air.

The healer shrugged, pulled out a vial of yellowish liquid from his robe, gave it a skeptical look, and poured a thin trickle into Flint's mouth.

"Will that help him?" Asha asked hopefully.

"It will help him not die in the next couple of days from exhaustion. Were you listening, young lady? Don't forget that only ordinary folk can live without magic. Magical beings, including mages, cannot survive without it. And the stronger you are, the more dependent you become."

"So, you're saying we'll all die once we run out of mana?" the Ashiran girl asked, just to be sure.

"We'll all die if we don't get out of here. The food supplies will last a week… and given this cold, as a healer, I advise restoring normal rations, or better yet doubling them. Otherwise, the crew will freeze to death faster than they'll starve. That means we have food for only a few days."

The light went out.

The lamp had burned through its last scraps of energy.

Outside, the blizzard howled.

"I know what you're going to say. We should have stayed in the Commonwealth, right?" Ashley's voice drifted through the darkness.

"No, I won't say that," her husband answered calmly.

"No?"

"You always wanted to see the Peak. That means it was worth it."

"Are you mocking me?"

There was a knock on wood, and a gunport was thrown open, letting in a bit of light, along with a heap of snow and icy wind.

"We can't even see it through this damned blizzard!"

"Shut that gunport, now!" the navigator snapped angrily.

Darkness returned to the hold. Sobs were heard.

"Damn it, I just wanted to cheer you up…" Marvin muttered in frustration.

Asha shifted uneasily from foot to foot. If even her ever-optimistic friend was breaking down, then their situation was truly dire.

"Come on, don't despair. I saw another ship not far from us, surely there'll be food there. And besides, doesn't the Commonwealth send expeditions here? We can just sail back with them."

"Hate to disappoint you, but that ship most likely belonged to one of those expeditions. They never return. An expedition is just a way to get rid of unwanted people under a noble pretext. A death sentence."

"But there still might be supplies aboard?"

"All you think about is food…" the navigator sighed.

In the darkness came the sharp strikes of flint on steel. Short flashes lit the navigator's grim face.

"Want me to help?" Asha offered.

"Save your mana."

The tinder caught, the air mage cupped it in his hands and brought it to the wick of an oil lamp. Its smoky glow filled the hold.

"Listen, all of you. As first mate, I am assuming command until the captain is able to lead the ship again. Address me as Captain William," he declared, setting a captain's tricorne on his head.

"Isn't his name Naik?" the girl whispered to Marvin. He only shrugged.

"My first order: strip the sails and sew them into warm clothing for ten men. As soon as the blizzard ends, we'll head for the nearest ship and take supplies. Bring back everything: food, clothes, fuel. Handle the navigation instruments with extra care. Understood? Get to it!"

The ring of the ship's bell echoed. Frozen sailors went out into the icy wind to strip the sails. The cook clattered with a pestle in the galley. In this weather, cooking on fire was impossible anyway.

Hard as stone hardtack and equally hard salted meat were ground in the mortar with water. Fruits and vegetables bought in port were long gone. Even water had suddenly become a problem, since the captain could no longer supply it.

They would have to melt snow.

Asha winced. The ship's food had never been great, but now, when they had to eat this cold, raw mash… At least maybe on that ship there would be something edible!

The blizzard ended only on the second day.

***
​

The ship had turned into a snowdrift. Perhaps that was even for the better. The thick layer of snow clinging to the hull kept the heat in. Sometimes so well that in the cramped cabins the water in mugs did not freeze!

At least, not immediately.

The wide backs of sailors, made bulkier by layers of summer clothing, blocked her view. She wanted to push ahead, but that would mean forcing her own way through the snow.

The drifts had piled up taller than she was.

Sometimes her feet slid on the ice hidden beneath the snow. Other times the snow was packed so hard it held her weight.

Reaching the snowy mound beneath which a ship was buried, the sailors began digging it clear.

Asha shifted from foot to foot. Cold. It had been a long time since she had felt so cold. Ever since her Gift had advanced, she had stopped fearing the chill. But now the cold had returned. The space around her drained all warmth, reminding her of the days when she had sat by a campfire in the forest after joining the bandits.

Cold.

A red-cheeked sailor beside her set down his shovel and tugged at his collar. At least someone was hot.

The snow-covered mound was beginning to look more and more like a ship. A strange ship. Its stern was shattered and frozen into the ice, as though the ship had been sailing stern-first, backwards, when it struck an iceberg. Thick, makeshift oars jutted from the gunports, and instead of sails, icicles hung from the masts.

They didn't even need to chop through the hull with boarding axes. They could walk straight inside through the ruined stern… though of course the interior was filled with snow.

The sailors scratched their heads at the frosted ceiling and drifts that nearly reached it, then took up their shovels again.

Thump! Soon enough, they uncovered something round beneath the snow. A barrel? Cheering, they rolled it out.

Oak, sturdy.

A swing of an axe!

"What is it, what is it? Food?!" The crew crowded around the barrel, jostling each other.

"Anything but salted meat!" someone shouted.

The shattered lid fell away.

Inside was rough, brown ice. For a moment the sailor stared at his axe, whose blade was dusted with brownish ice crystals. Then he quickly pressed it to his lips and licked.

"Ehh! Mmmhh!"

"Oh, idiot…" the new captain commented with a grin. He was in good spirits; Since they had already found at least one barrel that wasn't empty, there had to be many more casks of hardtack and salted meat still inside.

Meanwhile, an argument broke out around the unlucky sailor.

"Maybe just yank him off?"

"Yank him yourself!"

"I once heard warm water works… but we've no water. Maybe we should piss on it?"

"Mmhh! Mmhh!" came the muffled, outraged reply.

"I was joking, joking."

Asha sighed, pushed through the crowd, and touched the blade. A faint pulse of magic left her shivering even more as the cold clamped down on her body. The axe fell free of the man's tongue.

"Thhh… thank you, my lady," the sailor mumbled, bowing deeply despite his numb tongue.

"Why'd you lick metal, genius?" the captain asked him.

"How was I supposed to know it'd stick?"

"Southerner…" one of the sailors muttered, waving him off.

Encouraged, the sailors pressed on. More and more chests and barrels were dragged out from the ship. Smoked meat and lard. Potatoes frozen solid in ice, even lemons. Not a single crate of hardtack or salted beef. Every cask of liquor brought wild cheers.

"They weren't suffering, oh no they weren't," the sailors said, anticipating a feast as they dug.

A dull thud.

Usually that meant a good find. Whistling, a sailor scraped at the snow with stiffened fingers. What could it be? More rum? Or maybe cheese? He hadn't tasted cheese in ages.

White flecks spilled down as he dug, revealing something dark, oddly shaped.

From under the snow, frozen eyes stared back at him. A woolen coat, bluish skin.

"C-cap… Captain!" the sailor stammered in shock. "There's a corpse!"

The good mood blew away like wind through the rigging. Yes, they had found much… but why had no one stopped to think—why hadn't the crew of this ship eaten it all themselves?

The corpse, frozen fast to the planks, was pried out and hauled outside.

There was no telling how he had died. Cold? Or murder? There was no blood.

Several sailors tried to strip the body, but failed. The warm coat was frozen solid to the corpse. They could only cut it free. No one even considered leaving the dead man his clothes.

The crew needed them too badly.

The rest of the hold was cleared in silence. Even good finds brought no cheer. Would they really save them, when they hadn't saved the previous crew?

And the bad finds grew more frequent. Soon the dead outnumbered the barrels and crates. All in warm, seemingly intact clothing. No wounds. No injuries.

"Stay sharp," the captain warned, drawing a short saber.

The frozen door gave way easily to an axe. The second deck held little snow, but plenty of corpses. Too much. The crew could hardly find a place free of bodies to set their feet.

And still, not a drop of blood.

The oil lamp cast only a feeble glow. Shadows danced across the walls among the dead. Bunkroom after bunkroom. Deck after deck.

Nothing alive. One sailor, glancing around, lowered his axe and started pulling a ring off a corpse. Others searched under benches for money. The dead had no need of it.

The new captain, unlike his men, did not lower his guard. With every body they found, his mood grew darker.

Expensive food. Warm clothes. Few artifacts. This ship had clearly known where it was headed and what awaited it. And yet… where were the mages? Among the crew there was no one in the robes of the Commonwealth.

"To the captain's cabin. We need the navigation instruments," he ordered, gripping his saber so tightly his knuckles whitened.

The door to the cabin stood open.

At least it was finally clear where the mages were.

Seven people lay on the cabin floor. Their frozen corpses seemed arranged in a pattern, each mage lying a short distance from the next. Only the seventh had died slumped against the back of a chair. And… it seemed he wasn't a mage at all. Nor did he look like a sailor. His clothes marked him more as a forest bandit: greenish-brown garments, scraps sewn to the sleeves to break up his outline in dim light, and a black cloth covering most of his face.

Naik hesitated. With the earlier corpses he couldn't be certain, but with these it felt as though they had all died at the same time. And without resistance. The cabin was undisturbed, fragile instruments on the captain's desk still intact: a chronometer, a sextant…

"Well? What are you standing there for? Look, some instruments on the table, aren't those what you need?" Asha huffed, pushing the frozen captain into the circle of corpses.

Nothing happened.

The captain let his eyes sweep over the bodies once more, shrugged, and slid his saber back into its sheath. Whatever had happened here was long finished.

They would just take what they needed and leave.

He reached for a chart of currents, far more detailed than any he had ever seen. His gaze was drawn at once to the center of the map, to a white blot marked only as the Peak.

His finger traced the icy island. All the arrows pointed inward. That was impossible.

As if it were the center of a whirlpool… how can the water move that way?

"I'd like to know that myself… though no, that's a lie. I don't care." A creaking voice came through the crackling of ice. Very close.

A gust of wind helped him draw the saber almost instantly. The air itself shoved the hilt into his hand."

Strike!

A razor-sharp gust burst from the blade's tip, slashing a neck clean through and, without slowing, cutting the chair from beneath the speaking corpse and shearing the legs from the table.

Instruments crashed to the floor.

The severed head flew into the air. The captain prepared to strike again, ready to split it in two, but was hurled backward. The wind had rebelled, surging against him, burning his skin. Naik called upon his Source and wrestled it back under control, landing softly several paces behind Asha.

The corpse was burning. Fire consumed it from head to toe. In moments the frozen body blackened into charcoal, and the culprit was easy to spot: flames danced on Asha's hands.

"Put it out! Damn it, the maps!"

"Oops…"

The fire vanished as swiftly as it had come. At any other time the captain might have praised her for summoning flame so quickly without any spark... But not now, when some of the priceless charts were browned like pies in an oven.

"Alright, alright! I surrender, I surrender!" rasped the head as it rolled into a corner.

The captain lowered his saber slightly.

"Should we finish him off?" Asha suggested.

"Questions first."

The captain grabbed the head by the hair and set it on a chest.

"Careful, please. The more damage you cause this body, the harder it is for me to remain in this world. Especially here," the head croaked, jaw barely moving.

"You're a demon," Asha accused, jabbing a finger at him.

"That's no excuse to burn my body. It was quite convenient until it died…"

"Enough. What happened here?" the captain cut him off.

"What difference does it make?" The head rolled its eyes, then continued eagerly. "What matters is something else: do you want to get out of here? If yes, then we're allies, because I want out too."

"What. Happened. Here?"

"In short, I killed them all. They wouldn't have survived anyway. No, no, don't strike! I can be useful, I swear. You're aborigines, right?" Hard for you, I understand. Everyone's on edge, it's not easy living in a doomed world."

"Doomed world?" Asha's hand fell.

"He's just trying to distract you," the captain said.

The head jerked indignantly.

"Me? Distract you? Are you kidding? And what do you think I'm doing here? Why the hell would I leave lands crawling with tasty mages to come to this cursed frozen wasteland? Think about it, why would I do that?"

"I don't care." The captain raised his saber for the strike.

The demon shrieked.

"I just don't want my existence to end along with all of you idiots. This world is nothing but expendable scrap, an artificial imitation, an offering to the higher powers! I thought I'd find an exit here, that I could escape… but there's nothing. Nothing at all. Empty! Do you understand? The absolute end of everything! Oblivion!"

The saber froze in midair.


END OF VOLUME SIX.