Chapter 1
More Trouble Than Boys Are Worth
Tern Bay enclave, in the Windborne Scotland District
Coral hovered, slowly flapping her feathered wings under the crisp September night sky. The last set of competitors had landed at the edge of the dueling arena below, its glowing borders the only light in the isolated valley. They withdrew the magic from their wings and shook hands. She was up next.
I have nae been so nervous about dueling since…
She’d never been nervous about throwing shockballs. Being the youngest of four ensured that, and improved her aim.
But across the arena, her ex-beau, Lemon, kept glaring at her. Earlier she’d had to tell him again that no, she didn’t want to get back together. He’d been as nasty about it as a shark with a hook in his mouth.
And tonight, Lemon was a referee.
“He’s not gonna give you fair calls,” said the other referee, Pearl, coming to hover next to Coral. “Especially not with who you’re up against. But I’ll do my best for you.” She knocked her light brown knuckles against Coral’s leather-clad shoulder. The tall, brunette witch was always friendly and treated Coral like she lived here.
Few of the town teens did. Coral was in this port only once or twice a month, but that was more frequently than other ports on her family’s rounds from the Isle of Giuthas. She’d claimed Tern Bay as her home dueling team three years ago, when she was thirteenth year and she’d followed her older brother to the secret matches.
“Thanks,” Coral told Pearl and zipped up the insulated blue vest she wore over her black leather shirt and pants.
Next to Lemon, Spike, her opponent, was also adjusting his vest, a red one the color of his magic. Lemon wore a yellow vest, and the two best friends were whispering, their blond heads repeatedly turning toward her.
That friendship was one of the things that had come between her and Lemon. Spike hated Coral because she was an outsider to Tern Bay and because she was a witch and a better duelist. Spike was two years older and quick, both at maneuvering and with his forceful throws. Aye, her fiercest rival had better form, but neither his energy nor his aim was as strong as hers. Lately she’d been winning more, and this summer she’d gained the top position. She was proud to finally be the best at something, though outside of the duelists, she couldn’t tell anyone—magical dueling was illegal.
Lemon held his arm up.
“Ready?” Pearl asked.
Coral’s stomach felt like it was full of flying fish, and her fingers hummed with her magic, coating them in a messy blue glow. She siphoned it in. Lemon’s nasty attitude can’t stop me. She nodded.
“Good luck,” Pearl said and held up her arm.
Coral and Spike flew toward their starting positions above the central circle, each on their side of a glowing dividing line, each holding one palm-sized shockball—hers neatly formed this time—as was allowed. The first one to force the other outside of the designated arena won the match.
“How about you and me, lass?” Spike called before they’d reached the center. “If you aren’t with Lemon anymore, let’s you and I give our magic a try.”
“What?” She’d heard him, she just couldn’t believe what he’d said.
“Spike,” Lemon growled. “Back off.”
Spike laughed, his red magic flickering around his fingers. “Coral can answer for her—”
“Nay,” she said quickly, just as Pearl called, “Point taken for harassing your opponent.”
Coral threw her a grateful glance. Spike shouldn’t even consider that a possibility—she didn’t. What trick was he up to here?
“That’s right.” Lemon flew up behind Spike. “Penalty. Spike sits this one out.”
“In your dreams,” Spike snapped. “She’s not going to represent us at the title match. I am.”
Hoy, that’s what this was about? “You had your turn last year. Beating you the last five matches means I’m taking my turn as top duelist fair and square.” Her braided hair bouncing, Coral darted into position. “Lemon, blow the start whistle so I can make it six.”
Instead, Lemon flew forward and punched Spike. The fist to his jaw sent Spike off balance. He dropped backward.
With yelps, Coral and Pearl dove to catch him. So did Lemon. Spike regained his wings and heaved upward. He veered around Pearl and slammed into Lemon. Arms swinging, they rammed into Coral.
Grunting bodies shoved hers, then—
“Oof.” The breath went out of her. The next thing she heard was Pearl screaming her name.
The ferocity made Coral blink.
Air was rushing past. Then magic tingled over her, bringing Coral alert. She arched her wings—what should have been an automatic reaction—but she’d already slowed, thanks to Pearl’s energy net.
Pearl shot into view, shouting a warning to others darting skyward as she crushed Coral’s hand in an iron grip. “Easy,” Pearl said to her. “Let’s get to the ground.”
“Lemon? Spike?” she gasped.
“Gits! They’re punching each other upward. The others will break it up. Luckily, I saw you fall.”
Aye, she’d lost a dangerous amount of altitude for Pearl to have yelled like that. Pearl got her down, and Coral collapsed. The vest that guarded her energy cores from the charge of the shockballs had done nothing to pad the kick. Her shoulder throbbed. Sitting made it worse, so she leaned into Pearl while everyone got to the ground. The other older duelists gathered to confer, but much as Coral wanted to look tough, she couldn’t even pretend to pay attention.
“Matches are over for the night,” Pearl said, catching Coral’s attention. “I propose that Coral retain her position for the title match during Fest. After this fight, other matches are up to her.”
To Coral’s surprise, everyone agreed. The rest of the fight that she’d missed must have been bad. The duelists began to leave.
Spike came toward her, and Coral’s magic rose in defense. Pearl stepped forward and blocked him.
“I’m sorry you got injured,” he said. “I was only after that idiot.”
“Go home and sleep it off,” Pearl said. “I’m sure you’ll be best friends again tomorrow.”
“Not much of an apology,” muttered Shrimp, Pearl’s younger brother.
Glaring, Spike started to leave, but hesitated when Lemon strode up.
“Don’t court Spike,” Lemon pleaded. “Say you’ll give us another try. Your energy is as hot as it comes, even if you ain’t much of a lass.”
With her arm in agony, his typically thoughtless comment about her small bust sent Coral over the top. “I don’t want to court you. Or you,” she threw at Spike. “I’ll decide who gets my hot energy.”
He snorted. “Attitudes like that don’t keep friends, lass. Watch your back.”
The malice in Spike’s tone sent a shiver through her. Others moved in to pull both boys away, but Spike shot out a shield and stomped off.
Pearl helped Coral magic on her sailor’s breeches and a loose shirt over her dueling outfit—what she’d worn to sneak out—then a group of them left together.
The barest sliver of moonlight lit the rolling hills to the coast. Coral held her arm to her side and tried to breathe while Pearl and Shrimp slowed their wingbeats to match hers. The Scottish moor gave way to a rocky cliff at the edge of the sea. Below, white lines grew into waves that boiled and crashed against the shore. Coral spread her wings to glide on the wind with the others, but the first churning air current jostled her. New daggers of pain stabbed through her arm.
“Ouch!” Another gust blew her northward, and she had to careen along with it.
Gritting her teeth, Coral fought the airstream until she dropped out of it. They soared south toward the wizard town of Tern Bay, sweat coating Coral’s brow. Shaking from the struggle, she let herself glide lower until the salt spray prickled her cheeks.
Pearl dropped to fly even with her. “You gonna be able to make it onto your ship?”
“Aye.”
“That git,” Shrimp fumed on her other side. “Lemon should have challenged Spike to a duel like any sane wizard, any honorable wizard. Who throws a real punch?”
Coral wanted to dissect their reasons, too, but flying was all she could manage. The Peaceful Seas was in sight, the only double-masted schooner docked among the fishing boats at the business end of town. At the breakwater, they split up. Coral skimmed across the fishy-smelling rocks and then the quiet harbor water, keeping level with The Peaceful’s hull. At midship—well away from the stern and her parents’ stateroom—she popped over and landed lightly on the balls of her feet.
She’d made it. She waved to Pearl and Shrimp high above, then paused to listen while dissolving her wings. The magical matter rippled across her shoulder blades, the feel of a dozen little crabs scuttling across the sand. The energy ran into the channels beneath her skin and circulated to her storage cores. No sounds came from below, but a clattering of toenails raced across the deck. A furry black body hurtled into her calves and yipped in delight.
“Skipper, shush!” With her good arm, she petted the small Schipperke dog and listened again. She let out her breath. Not that her parents had ever caught her in the years she’d been sneaking off and back onto the ship.
Creak.
The sound meant little, but the subtle shift of weight on the schooner did. Had Lemon followed them? Coral magicked a protective shield over her body and whirled, her braids whipping about her face.
A figure loomed beside the nearest mast.
~~~
Chapter 2
Blue energy shot to her fingertips. It coalesced, and she threw the shockball. Her magic hit an answering flashshield with the same blue coloring. In the brief flare of light, she recognized the wizard.
“Salm!” she hissed at her brother and let the second shockball hum in her hand. Skipper’s toenails clicked in a dance over to greet him and then back to her. She should have known it wasn’t Lemon since her dog hadn’t barked. Great Orb, what was with her? Clenching her hand into a fist, she absorbed the energy and tiptoed to meet him.
“Got you.” Her older brother chuckled in his annoying way. “What has you on high alert?”
“You wouldn’t believe it,” she blurted and told him about the fistfight. “Have you ever seen wizards do that?”
“Never.” Salm shook his head. “I thought those two were joined at the hip. I suppose when it comes to courting you, Lemon wants first dibs.”
“Like that’s going to happen. I don’t need my magic hyped by Lemon’s again, with all that sparking and sizzling. But he keeps going on about how, if we’d just learn to merge our magic, it’d be the best bonding ever.”
Salm snorted. “It’s your business, but I never did know what you saw in Lemon.”
Neither did she, apart from a stellar first kiss, but she wasn’t sharing that with Salm. She turned away even though he wouldn’t be able to see her blushing in the dark. She’d thought splitting up with Lemon months ago would improve things in their group, but he—and now Spike—were acting all kinds of stupid.
“Does dueling have you so distracted that you’re willing to test Spike’s energy, too?” Salm asked.
Her head shot up. “Spells,” she snapped. “You think I’d court the town bully? Especially not after he clobbered me good.”
“I thought your stance was off when you shot that shockball.” Salm nodded toward the arm crossing her belly. “Where did he hit you?”
“Shoulder.”
Salm’s mouth always ran at full tilt, but he had a gentle touch for injuries and animals. He lightly patted his fingers over her arm and shoulder.
She sucked a sharp breath.
“It’s dislocated,” he said. “Shall I pop it back, or will you have Ma see to it?”
“As if that’s a choice,” she muttered. “Go ahead.” Coral pressed her lips tight, but when he straightened and lifted her arm, she cried out. For an agonizing moment, her vision blackened. Then with a pop, the pain disappeared.
“That better?”
“Aye, thanks.” She swallowed and wiped her eyes.
“Come on, I know you can take a lot. Put ice on it and that herbal healing balm in the cabinet.”
“Good idea, thanks.” She’d gotten off light, thank the Orb. “Why are you topside?”
“Ma and Pop went to bed ages ago, if that’s what you’re getting at. Luna asked me to wait until midnight to come see her. She wanted to make sure her father had his tea and settled the lighthouse before we talked to him.”
Salm never waited on anyone. He’d said he intended to court Luna this fall, but Coral hadn’t taken her carefree brother seriously until now.
“It’s nearly time.” He nodded to the southern headland where Kittiwake Point Lighthouse blinked its regular rotations of passing light. “Since you’re here to take the pup below without him making a ruckus, I’ll go.” He picked up Skipper and ruffled his fur in a friendly way before handing him over. “See you.”
She cuddled Skipper close, threading her chilled fingers into the long fur at his neck. Salm ducked under the beam of the foremast and stepped onto the low edge of the bow. For a second, he perched with his boot tips hanging in midair. Then his wings unfurled through the slits in his shirt and he leaped. He gained height with a series of rapid downward strokes and flew off over the bay.
Coral heaved a sigh and rounded the deck cabin to the hatch leading to their living quarters. She carried Skipper down the companionway ladder and set him on the floor in the dark salon. He immediately scampered over to check his food dish.
“All right,” she whispered. “I’ll find you more.” And some ice for her injury.
She’d just sealed the bag of cubes when the overhead lights snapped on.
“Coral?” Ma walked in from the stateroom, wrapping her robe closed, her long, sandy-brown hair loose about her shoulders. “Why are you up?”
Before turning, Coral snagged a towel to wipe her hands and dropped it over the ice. “Skipper was pestering me, so I—”
“My word, what happened to your cheek?” Ma tilted Coral’s chin and peered at her face. “Is this a bruise?”
No. They must have hit her there, too. “It’s nothing. Skipper knocked me one.”
Ma’s gaze fell to the counter where the corner of the ice bag showed. Then she reached up and flipped aside the collar of Salm’s old work shirt, exposing the dueling shirt beneath. Her face froze for a moment, then she cleared her throat. “Coral of the Seas. Dueling.”
“It wasn’t a duel so much as a fight. And not my fight either. I just got caught in—”
“Don’t think I’m clueless. This explains your assorted accidents whenever we dock in this port. Dueling is dangerous. Unsanctioned dueling is forbidden.” Ma’s voice rose with each word. “You get caught and you’ll be explaining yourself in a Windborne courtroom.”
“No one would report—”
Ma’s hand flew up. “I don’t want to hear it. I finally convinced your father that he and I could go on a holiday, and before we can even leave, you run off and jeopardize it. Plus, you’ve risked losing your magic by breaking Windborne law.” Her eyes narrowed. “That settles it. You’re staying with your sister.”
Coral bit her lip. Staying at Manta’s wasn’t so bad. She’d be there anyway, what with working in her bakery this week. She could still sneak out and attend the title match on Saturday—
“And you’re grounded. We’ll be locking your magic in a quash.”
~~~
Chapter 3
Adrift Ashore
“That’s steep.” Ty Sterling shifted on one of Dockside Diner’s counter stools and eyed Octo, a ruddy-faced guy shoveling eggs into his mouth. Though bulkier than Ty, Octo wasn’t much older—nineteen, maybe, to his seventeen—but the guy’s confidence about his sailing skills clocked in decades higher. Forty? Enough that he’d jacked up the fee for his lessons to double what Ty had been told to expect.
“Ya want the sailing lessons or not? That’s the price.” Octo’s voice blended into the din of Scottish accents spilling from the early breakfast crowd.
Yeah, this sailor’s kid knew the ropes growing up here. All the ropes. Ty wanted to scoff and walk out the door. Yet he also wanted a job as a sailor, so he might need Octo’s lessons. Ty swept off his red bandanna and wiped it over his face. After popping the last bite of doughnut into his mouth, he stood and brushed the crumbs from his white work shirt. A polite I’ll think about it and he’d go.
“I watched yer test sail on my dad’s boat.” Octo waved a triangle of toast. “Ya might’a had some lessons back where ya came from, Yank, but ya ain’t got a feel for the vessel on the ocean. No captain’s gonna risk his boat in winter’s rough waters with wha’cha got now.”
The pit in Ty’s stomach confirmed it—he was screwed. Not only was what Octo said true, but it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it while running through every local sailor seeking a deckhand. Just not so bluntly.
He needed ocean practice. Being Windborne allowed him physical entrance into this enclave of winged wizards, but since he’d been born and raised in American enclaves, no one was willing to take him on. At least he hadn’t told them about his wizard academy education. No—Ty shook his head—that would divide him further from these small-town wizards.
“That yer answer?” Octo asked.
“Er, no, it’s not. That’s me thinking how many people are gonna be on my case because their milk is late.” Ty retied the bandanna—something only people back home in Colorado wore—over his shoulder-length brown hair. “Thanks, Octo. I’ll get back to you.”
“Righto. Jus’ remember Fest is next weekend. All them other sailors comin’ into town are lookin’ sharp for the next lads to hire. Ya got one week to get yer act shipshape.”
Ignoring Octo’s smirk, Ty ducked through the swinging kitchen door. Surrounded by the heavy smell of bacon, he paused near the stove, well out of the way of the cook frying eggs. “Thanks for telling me Octo was out front, Keenan.”
The lanky warlock dipped his head, shifting the ponytail trailing down his back. “Is it going to work out, some sailing time with him?”
“It might. He’s got the boat and the time. Question is, do I have the exchange notes?”
“Same problem we all have.” Keenan laughed and sidestepped to a prep counter. “Here’s a carrot top for Pepper.”
Ty caught it and waved as he left through the alley door he used every morning to deliver the diner’s milk order. A sturdy black Highland pony waited feet away, harnessed to an antique delivery cart bearing the words Dar’s Dairy. “Hey, Pepper. Your fans have remembered you. Look at this.”
Pepper didn’t waste time looking at the ferny leaves. He inhaled the expected treat.
Great guy, Keenan. He’d been friendly from the start, a reaction Ty didn’t get from most of the wizards in this old-fashioned town. Mom had warned him Granddad’s birthplace had little else besides the boating life he wanted, but Tern Bay was really off the map, way beyond the whole magically-living-under-the-radar-so-they-weren’t-discovered thing.
Ty grabbed the handles of the cart and pivoted it from the wall. Pepper pulled the load of milk bottles, his leather tack creaking and hooves resonating along the boardwalk route the pony knew by heart.
Today’s sunless beach echoed Ty’s dreary mood. They passed the town’s fishing sheds and businesses along North Dock—net repair, lumberyard and a general store carrying boating supplies. After only a month of these deliveries, boredom was setting in. He couldn’t spend his days delivering milk with the sea tempting him only a few wing flaps away, the breeze coating his lips with tangy salt and the cries of the gulls reminding him he should be on a boat.
By this time of morning, most boats were out, the fishermen fishing or checking their traps, but the port held a larger vessel he hadn’t seen before. The unfamiliar schooner was a beauty, with brightwork of polished wood above a blue-painted hull. Her name graced the bow in white letters.
“The Peaceful Seas.” He whistled over the elegant ship. “What I wouldn’t give to take a sail on you.” Was she a classic or a replica of an older ship? And why was the schooner in Tern Bay?
The cart lurched from his grasp, and Ty jerked to catch the handles as Pepper strained in his harness toward an alley alongside a grass-green cottage.
“Okay, I get it. Time to be going.” He’d make time to study that schooner later.
Ty guided the cart up the alley ramps that zigzagged behind the houses and shops painted every possible color—from robin’s-egg blue to buttercup yellow and cotton candy pink. He’d made the majority of the dairy deliveries on the way down through the stair-step town. The last few stops on today’s route would be quick before he emptied the cart at One Good Bun, the bakery.
At the town healer’s cottage, he was bending to place a bottle into the porch cooler when the back door opened. He straightened and handed the quart of milk to a woman with gray hair winding through better than half the black curls framing her face. “Good morning, Lady Anemone.”
“Good day to you, Tydell. Tell me again why an intelligent lad such as yourself is not at academy this fall.” The older witch tucked the bottle into the crook of her elbow and crossed her brown arms. She settled her round body against the doorjamb. “Your parents let you quit your training and move here because…?”
Ty bit back a sigh. Lady Anemone was smarter than most in town—well, he hoped so, because if he needed a doctor, she was it. Besides Keenan, she was one of the few people who’d taken the time to talk to him. Unfortunately, his evasive answers never satisfied her. “Do you sail, ma’am?” he asked.
A sad smile crossed her face, and Lady Anemone turned toward the sea. Ty followed her gaze. Far beyond the crescent-shaped bay, the sun had broken through the clouds. The light glittered on the waves even brighter than on the snowfields back home.
“I did,” she said softly. “I don’t have the physical quickness to handle a craft on my own now, but I go out every chance I get.”
“Me, too,” he said. But he’d had precious few chances since arriving in Tern Bay, and something wasn’t clicking on the ocean. “It’s never enough. I want to do it every single day, which is why I moved here.”
“You can’t waste a mind like yours on fishing. You need to go to academy.” She punctuated this with a firm nod.
This time, Ty sighed aloud. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course I can,” she scoffed. “A body who can’t keep a secret can’t keep a client.”
Then this should get her off my back. “Believe me, my parents are totally behind education, being teachers themselves. I learned to read at three. I have been to academy. I’ve graduated.”
“At seventeenth year?”
“I started at fourteen and finished by sixteen. Then my mom bribed me with apartment rent to stay another year, take extra classes and—”
“Grow up?”
By the Orb, do all adults think alike? “Yeah. I did that, too. By this summer, my parents were okay with me taking a break to pursue sailing. They even suggested I move to Scotland. Mom’s grandparents were from here.” It’d happened only after a lot of begging and because the Windborne agencies with the jobs he’d trained for at academy didn’t hire anyone younger than eighteen. That gave him one year of freedom to live as he pleased with no pressure—or so he had thought. If some sailor didn’t hire him, he’d be working for the dairy the entire winter.
Lady Anemone opened her mouth, but was cut off by a rapping sound from deep inside her home—someone knocking on the front door. She smiled and hefted her bottle of milk. “Glad to have more of the story. Talk to you tomorrow, Tydell.” She closed the door behind her.
She wanted to talk more? Ty turned and left. He couldn’t add details to what he’d already told her and still maintain his low profile in town. He’d have to steer the conversation away from himself. But to what?
His internal debate ended two houses later when Sir Porbeagle greeted him with, “Are you ready for Fest, lad?” The elderly owner of Shelter in a Storm bookstore sat on his back stoop, waiting, as usual, for his pint of cream.
“I guess so. I’m not sure what to expect, but Dar has promised me time off to talk to the sailors who’ll be in town. I’m still trying for a shipboard job.”
The wiry man jabbed his finger into the air between them, stopping just shy of Ty’s chest. “Excellent. Excellent plan. Everyone will be here. From up and down the coast, from the islands, even from Ireland. Anyone who’s got a boat comes when it’s Tern Bay’s turn for the Autumnal Equinox Festival.”
Yeah, different boat owners who hadn’t seen his inadequate skills. As Octo had said, he had one week to get his act shipshape. Somehow. “The equinox falls after next weekend, on the twenty-second, doesn’t it?”
“Aye, Tuesday a week.” Sir Porbeagle popped the cap on the pint bottle and tipped half its contents into his huge mug. Absently stirring the coffee into a pale brown, he peered up at Ty. “What is it you do over there in the New World for your equinoxes and solstices?”
“We have the ceremony for the holiday, of course. Every Windborne sticks with tradition, no matter what part of the world they’re in. But mostly, my family picnics at the local park where everyone gathers. American wizards don’t travel like Dar said will happen with people arriving here before the weekend.”
“Ach, you’re in for a treat, then. ’Tis like a big party. For days.” Sir Porbeagle patted his flat midsection. “I always put on a few pounds. The fried dough is quite tasty.”
“That sounds good.”
“’Tis. Of course, wizards don’t come for the food so much as the company. There’s the race as well.”
“Race?”
“Aye, the youth sailing race. Always a treat to see how the young people have improved their skills over the years. The Tern Bay racers show well, but my favorite is that scamp from the isle yonder.” He nodded in the direction of his shop.
Did he mean the one west of here? “The Isle of Giuthas?”
“That’s the one. You watch for Salm of the Seas to get some pointers to help you out.”
Yeah, well, great idea, but next week would be too late.
~~~
Lost Whisper of the Seas released July 17, 2019.
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