The sailor could not help but stare at . I had seen him on the ship before. He looked like he wanted to say sothing, but the words stopped short of leaving his mouth. I glared at him, making him sheepishly lower his gaze and turn away.
He was one of the stronger swimrs who had made it to the far bank. That wasn’t too surprising a feat given his profession.
The problem was, he might have seen walking atop the water he had been swimming through just a minute earlier.
I thought about killing him. He must be dead tired after that swim, and he wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight. But the sa issue would still hinder —possible witnesses. And, honestly, walking on water was easier to explain away than straight-up murder.
Not to ntion, that was just wrong. Still, the river debacle and the greenskin encounter had really done a number on . I was slowly losing myself to my darker thoughts.
"Did you just walk on water, Master Devon?" Elena asked. Her wide eyes blinked up at . I had forgotten I was still carrying her in my arms. Her question caught so off guard that I froze in silence for a few monts.
Now I had truly blundered.
"Haven’t I told you to close your eyes?" I blurted, as I slowly set her down on the ground.
"How could I? You swept off my feet and I felt you running. I thought you were telling to close my eyes to prepare for death," she reasoned.
I pald my face. That did make sense in hindsight. What else should she have expected? She must have thought I was trying to spare her from seeing the end.
"Is this why Master Edmund and Master Clifford keep following you around?" Instead of accusing of dark magic, she actually bead. "You’re secretly a legendary water mage! I barely heard your chant, and the duration of that water-glide spell... long enough to carry us across the river!"
Good. Another mistaken identity. First a king’s envoy, according to Edmund. Then a demigod in disguise, according to Clifford. Now a legendary water mage, according to Elena.
At first, it seed like a convenient way to explain my water-walking ability. But what happens when fellow mages notice I don’t chant? Or when they expect to cast other water spells? It would be a disaster waiting to happen.
"Can you keep this as a secret, Lady Elena?" I asked, though I knew it was a nearly impossible request. "I did save your life."
She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. "Why, though?"
"Because—"
"I totally understand you, young master," the sailor—whose existence I had forgotten again—cut in.
I turned to him. He was grinning widely, even as his teeth rattled from the cold. He was drenched to the bone.
"Understand what?" I asked.
"You, hiding your magical affinity. Water mages don’t last on ships after all," he said, walking closer without hesitation. "Despite the high pay, most of the work they’re given is... undignified. Purifying saltwater into drinking water, keeping supplies dry, patching leaks, even scraping barnacles off the hull underwater."
He scoffed. "It’s work unbefitting nobility."
"Our last water mage didn’t even rejoin us when we left Enasses. So I can completely understand why soone of your caliber would rather hide his identity than be pestered with nial chores."
"Guilty as charged," I sighed, even though I wanted to laugh out loud. I couldn’t believe the man I wanted to murder just a while ago had now saved with a perfectly believable excuse. Yes—why would a legendary mage want to be reduced to a glorified deckhand?
"So, you’ll do the favor of keeping silent about this, sailor?" I kept my tone low and stern, an attempt at intimidation. "If I ever hear you speak of this... I will not be pleased."
He stepped back and swallowed nervously. "Of course. I am your humble servant, my lord."
"Can I expect the sa from you, Lady Elena?" I turned to her.
She knitted her brow, looking ready to argue as usual. I could already imagine her lecturing —’So the reason is you’re just a lazy bum, while my father, a baron, goes out of his way to help people’—and on and on.
But she surprised instead.
"If you say so," she answered quietly.
Maybe it was gratitude for saving her life. Or maybe it was deference—because now I wasn’t just a baronet’s son, but a so-called legendary water mage, perhaps even outranking her father.
"Look, the baron has returned!" the sailor pointed toward the opposite bank.
Contrary to what I had feared, the rout of the rcenaries hadn’t led to a total collapse of the baron’s forces. They had returned to the slope and were now pressing forward with steady discipline—not the disorderly retreat of deserters, but the asured march of victors.
The poor souls who hadn’t braved the river were annihilated. There was nothing left of them except flattened pulp and dark pools of blood.
But vengeance was swift.
We were treated to an awe-inspiring display.
The Castorian knights led the charge downhill. Sir Lawrence slipped past a wild club swing and, in a flash of precise steps, hacked an orc’s leg clean off. Edmund rushed in as the beast toppled, climbing the stuck club like a ladder before decapitating it with a single stroke.
Clifford needed no partner. His magical prowess, belied his bastardy. He summoned an earthen spike that skewered an orc from below, then imdiately raised a shield of packed earth to block another blow.
Flashier still was the baron. Bolts of light rained from the sky, dropping two orcs at once. Then he conjured twin blades of radiance and carved his way through the enemy, pushing closer to the riverbank.
His nose bled freely—not from a wound, but from draining his mana reserves dry.
He didn’t care. His eyes were frantic, scanning the corpses scattered across the near bank. If Elena was among them, he would only recognize her by that oversized gambeson she wore.
We were too far away to call out. He stood with his hands on his head, desperation in his posture, searching the dead for his daughter. Then his gaze swept across the river, and froze when he found us.
"Papa!" Elena scread, waving her arms as high as she could.
The baron fell to his knees in relief. If we had been closer, I’m certain we would have heard him thanking the heavens.
I smiled faintly. I wondered what it felt like to have a father like that.
There was a tug on my brigandine.
"Thank you," Elena whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks as she leaned into my arm.
A bright smile cut across her face.
The battle still raged. So were still thrashing in the water, many of them drowning. Tens already lay dead, their bodies strewn across the bank.
For , however, the storm had already passed.
Reviews
All reviews (0)