Coral
Chapter 1
Coral
“Why does Salm get to stay on the ship?” Coral asked her mother again. “I am nearly in my seventeenth year. It’s but a two year difference.”
“Age is not the issue.” Ma sipped her coffee.
Coral leapt up from the table. If she stayed on the ship, they wouldn’t ground her magic, would they? What other excuse would Ma—a small black dog trotted into the galley. “There’s Skipper, too.” She grabbed his bowl to fill with kibble. “I’m afraid Salm will forget to feed him.”
“Skipper will not let your brother forget.”
“But will he walk him? You don’t like to find he’s had an acci—”
“There won’t be an accident,” Salm’s deep voice resounded from the hall to their bedrooms just before his body filled the galley doorway. “I daresay I know the ropes.”
Coral fisted her hands flickering with blue sparks, and glared at him. “I do, too.”
Ma stood up. “Salm, help your father lower the Sunfish so you and your sister can continue the dolphin monitoring while we’re away.”
With a smirk, Salm headed for the stairs. Coral set Skipper’s dish on the floor and the pup dove in. She couldn’t let them quash her magic. “I am responsible.” At her mother’s cocked brow, Coral added, “For myself! I won’t come to any harm staying here.”
“Aye, if it was you alone and no other wizards in town, I could believe it. But you seem to draw trouble, Coral. We have made our decision, and your sister has offered you—”
“I ken, I ken. I’m grateful to Manta for the job. I’ll work hard. I just want to stay on the ship instead of with her. And have magic this week. You don’t know what you’re asking—”
“Have you walked Skipper?” Ma asked.
“After all, we wouldn’t want him having an accident,” Salm’s singsong words floated back through the hatch.
“Black magic. You stop or I swear I’ll—” With a darted glance to her mother, Coral spun away, her dozen brown braids whipping around her shoulders. Curses! He’d picked a fight on purpose, shifting the odds against her. She scooped up her Schipperke, muttering, “Sorry,” as he scrabbled toward the bowl, and pounded up the stairs.
“We leave at half past the hour,” Ma called.
Dashing along the deck in the opposite direction from Salm, Coral focused her magic in her shoulder blades. The blue energy warmed her back and seconds later sparrow-brown wings unfurled through slits in her blouse. She swept the large feathered limbs down in a strong motion and, with a short run and a hop, lifted herself into the air. At the last moment she tucked up her knees so her boots didn’t whack the railing.
She swooped over it, Skipper yipping and nosing her neck. “Ah, that’s cold, my friend.” She cuddled him close as she skimmed above the calm waters at the north end of the crescent-shaped bay where their schooner, The Peaceful Seas, was docked among the fishing boats. Steady wing beats flew them beyond a curve of rocky coastline defining the town harbor and left behind Tern Bay’s sixty or so colorful houses. Rougher waves of the open ocean spit prickles of salt spray, cooling her bare arms, but Skipper’s thick black fur warmed her until she landed on the beach of an isolated cove.
Skipper leaped from her arms and raced into a flock of sandpipers, scattering them. The crashing of the next wave drowned out the shorebirds’ shrill protests and her dog trotted up the beach, paused to sprinkle a rock jutting from the black sand and disappeared into a jumble of fallen basalt columns at the base of the hillside.
Coral whistled and he reappeared, only to bolt down the shore. She followed, sometimes walking, sometimes flying a short distance to keep up. But her mind wasn’t on Skipper. Fine, she had to stay with her sister, but how could she convince Ma and Pop not to lock away her magic?
“Curses! A quash will be worse than a hold of rotten fish.” Coral leaned over to pick up a fist-sized cobble and tossed it with all her might into the breaking surf. A spray of blue sparks followed in its wake and disappeared into the glinting water.
“I will be so fried if anyone finds out. If Spike finds out. If Lemon … ugh. Skipper, I wish you were staying at Manta’s also. Then if he came to the bakery—” She looked up. Skipper was nowhere in sight. “Figures. And returning late will make Ma madder, leaving me no hope.”
Giving a few flaps, Coral rose into the air and wheeled away from the salt-tinged wind and eyed the moor, the only place he could have gone. She beat smooth strokes up the slope colored a burnished red from the crisp fall nights. She caught the sound of a yip. Skipper.
He darted in and out of the heather bushes, hot on the trail of a rabbit. They were nearly the same size and well matched for agility. How would she ever catch him? She twisted and dove to cut off Skipper’s path, but at that moment a flash of amber light streaked over the bushes.
What? No! Not—but it was. Lemon. The winged boy raced in low and fast from the south, the ball of yellow light growing as he fed it more of his magic. Coral held her breath. Despite Skipper’s twisting gallop, her former beau didn’t miss. He captured the dog in a bubble of glowing yellow energy that tumbled over and over before coming to a halt.
How dare he, after all they’d meant to each other. “Lemon! Let my dog go.”
Tossing his curly blond head, the warlock spread his wings and swooped upward like an osprey showing off his catch, a winged predator strutting his stuff. “Fight me for him.”
Aargh. The arrogance of the suckerfish. Coral blasted without thinking. Blue energy shot from her fingertips and coalesced into a palm-sized mass as it sped forward.
But the distance worked to Lemon’s advantage. As if dancing, he spun sideways, his golden-feathered limbs folded, then swept out and flapped to propel his long skinny body toward hers. Oh, no. He wore his black leather dueling outfit. In comparison, her fabric clothes offered little protection against an energy blast.
Curse it all. She shouldn’t be battling, in broad daylight, no less. If someone told her parents, things could get worse. Although, what was worse than having your magic quashed? Coral groaned—having her magic quashed every time their family anchored in Tern Bay. Or having this Sapaksan town’s Council on their backs for illegal dueling.
Lemon closed in on her, obviously preparing to duel, not to twirl her into an airborne embrace as they’d done before breaking up. Maybe if she hadn’t been so hasty she could have freed Skipper another way. Coral listened to him yip from his bubble while Lemon flew within range, his right arm trailing at his side. Until he moved it up to aim, she remained motionless.
What an idiot she was. She’d fired on him first, thereby accepting the invitation to fight according to their dueling group’s rules of engagement. Was Lemon the next wizard scheduled to duel her? A month had passed since her family had been in town, so she didn’t know the outcome of the latest matches.
Lemon flew within range. His stupid grin revealed the answer.
Coral gritted her teeth. “You arse. You baited me.”
“You fell for it.” He thrust his arm forward and shot his first energy blast.
What did he hope to gain by challenging her? Coral dodged, darted forward and returned fire. Her ball of bright blue hit the warlock squarely in the chest and shoved him back. She limited the charge of the hit—she didn’t want to hurt him, just parry enough to release Skipper.
“That’s right, blue babe, let’s do this,” he called like a song on the breeze.
Typical Lemon. He used off-putting banter to cover his quick reflexes and good aim.
“Come on, Coral. This is between us, not the rest of the group. Spike will be setting your match as soon as he catches you alone.”
Oh, black magic. The contender was Spike again—“Ahhh!” Lemon’s amber fireball struck her shoulder, the shock of his power buzzing the energy channels over her whole right side. She couldn’t use the arm and he knew it. Lemon moved closer and threw another blast. Energy from her left hand met his power, and the energy balls exploded in mid-air.
Ahh, the wave of electricity rippling over her zinged her channels again, but she focused on the shower of sparks, more of them yellow than blue. Too much yellow. Lemon wasn’t approaching this match with any of the finesse of a proper wizard duel. He meant to disable her—today, of all days.
She did not need this. Ma said she drew trouble. How? What did she do to keep losing control, garnering challenges, landing in fights? She didn’t want trouble, just to be herself.
Shaking her numb arm, she forced magic into it. The wash of correctly charged power tingled and a ripple of pin prickles followed, bringing her flesh back to life. The jumpy blue energy she’d inherited from her father flowed the length of her extended arm, bursting forth in a stream that hit Lemon’s chest. Sizzling sparks vaporized along his sides into his slipstream, and he faltered. She threw out another jarring hit before he had the sense to back off.
“Let’s call this match a draw,” she shouted.
“Nay.” He circled and threw a yellow ball. It grazed the top of her boot, singeing the cuff of her breeches. Scrunching her nose against the smoke, Coral swatted the flame with her left hand while shooting with her right. She folded her wings, dropped below his next blast and shot haphazardly as she fell.
“Owwww!” he howled, flying out of range.
Where had she hit him? Surely not in the … yikes! Of all the places. Why did she have to hit him there? Lemon had it in for her already. This, he’d never forgive.
