“Pity the Maelim for he is broken and twisted.” - Attributed to the first of the Maelim, known only as the Mad King.

  An abrupt rocking jolted Leo and Avella awake, Leo knocking his head against the wood with a thud. The ship rocked and swayed violently. Leo helped Avella to her feet. Something was wrong.

  They rushed out of the quarters, leaning on the bulkhead as they shambled onto the deck. The previous night’s calm had transformed into a grey day, with fierce winds, blue rain, and foam. The rowers were trudging through; it was a struggle, and many of them groaned and strained at their oars.

  “What’s happening?” asked Leo as he spotted Petro.

  “A storm, a vicious one,” said Petro, trying to hide his nervousness. “Out of the blue, it came. The clouds rolled in within the past hour.”

  Avella looked up into the air. Her eyes narrowed. “This is not a natural storm.”

  Leo’s heart sank.

  Petro had come to the same conclusion. He gave a command in his own tongue. Half the rowers dropped their oars, put on armor, and took up arms. Benelim loaded their crossbows and grasped spears.

  “Over there!” shouted Curio, pointing upward. The rest panned up and saw it too. It was a floating feathered figure, circling them like a looming specter.

  Petro nodded. “A harpy.”

  “One harpy can’t cause this,” said Leo. The creature laughed, an evil sound that sent shivers down Leo’s spine. Several Benelim aimed their crossbows but quickly realized she was out of range and held their fire.

  Avella pointed up ahead, seemingly at nothing. “There.”

  Before anyone could question her, another ship materialized through the mist. It was similar to the Benelim’s, except it was far larger with more rows of oars. The vessel was darker, the wood nearly black with shades of icy blue and solid black sails. Petro’s face twisted into an expression of hatred and anger.

  “Maelim,” hissed Petro.

  The harpy landed on the center mast of the Maelim vessel, joining a flock perched there. They were lithe, and feathers adorned them from head to toe; feathered headdresses took the place of their hair. They all stared eagerly with tar-black eyes and thin sharp teeth, smiling cruelly at the promise of bloodshed. Down to the deck itself, it was full of Maelim, the corrupted and twisted counterparts of the Benelim, a foul race Leo had fought many times before. He could still see their glowing red and orange eyes through the dim grey mist. Countless skulking forms peered from every crack and crevice, all beneath a forest of spear points and polearm blades.

  Leo drew his sword. At that moment a hooked blade slammed into the Benelim vessel, piercing the hull port side. The wood whistled as it splintered. The debris rippled through rowers, shredding their bodies. The hook went taut, causing the Benelim ship to lurch aggressively to the right, slowly being dragged toward the large Maelim vessel. Petro barked orders to his men in his own tongue. Several soldiers tried desperately to pry the grapple hook out.

  “It’s stuck!” cried Curio.

  Avella turned to Petro and said, “I can help. Can you all buy me time?”

  “Gladly,” Petro said, smirking. “Behold a glimpse of how we Benelim wage war. Sagittarii!”

  The Benelim crossbowmen formed a line facing the enemy vessel and aimed their weapons. They moved as one with precision and coordination. With another command, the Benelim opened fire, and a deluge of bolts lobbed the enemy vessel; each hitting its mark, with many Maelim falling limply into the water. Avella began chanting. Leo hoped she could be quick; the display was impressive, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

  As the ships got closer together, the harpies launched off the mast. Smaller grappling hooks began flying out. One nearly hit Leo, the blade missing him as it whipped through the air. Another latched onto one of Petro’s antlers, pulling him forward. Leo was quick to act and rushed forward. Leo lowered his sword and cut the rope, finally freeing Petro. The severed cord slid away like a retreating serpent. He pulled the Benelim to his feet. Petro nodded appreciatively.

  They had to move back quickly; arrows and bolts were starting to break the ship to pieces. Several shots reached close to Leo’s feet. The Benelim went below deck and propped up great tower shields, blocking most projectiles. More hooks flung over, and Maelim followed.

  A harpy swooped in to attack Leo, but he decapitated it with a swift strike. A nearby Maelim tried to swipe at Leo with a rusted blade, only for Leo to parry the blow and kick him off the vessel. The creature cursed at him, hissing from a fanged scaly mouth as he fell into the surf.

  Another larger, burlier Maelim leaped aboard. He swung a halberd, and Leo dodged the blow just in time. The creature moved to strike again, but he was clumsy. Leo slid to the side easily as the blade came down. He batted the halberd from the creature’s hands and kicked it away. The Maelim didn’t skip a beat and rushed Leo. Before he could react, the two collided. Leo groaned in pain as he hit the deck, pinned down by the monstrous Maelim.

  He was inches from its face, a drooling maw with black eyes and a wolf’s muzzle. His breath stank through bloodied and rotten teeth, inches away from Leo’s throat. Leo headbutted the creature, dazing it. He headbutted it again, causing the creature’s grip to loosen. It was all Leo needed. He grabbed his sword and thrusted it straight into the Maelim’s heart. It roared in pain before it fell over dead.

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  Leo shook off the corpse and stumbled to his feet. He looked around. They were holding. One unfortunate rower couldn’t save himself from getting snatched by a harpy; he screamed in terror as she took him away. The horned head of another Maelim impaled another. It took five bolts to put her down. Despite their losses, Petro and Curio proved capable fighters; Leo was most impressed with their prowess. The two of them had slain all who approached; prone bodies of Maelim and harpies littered the deck. Leo looked at the enemy vessel with concern; it was nearly on top of them now. If the main force were to board, their fates would change rapidly.

  Avella’s eyes glowed. “I’m ready!” She muttered her spell, pressing her hand onto the blade of the harpoon; the rusted metal turned molten at her touch, breaking the ship free. Her chanting continued, and she grabbed one of her spell stones, placing her hands together. A jet of white-hot fire surged out of her hands like a rocket. It hit the ship in a surge of flame, the impact blowing the ship apart in an explosion of smoldering wood. A few harpies had left in time, but the Maelim were not so lucky. Those not charred to death on the spot growled and groaned as the river took them away.

  Time stood still. Leo was stuck in awe. He knew of the power of the Godshards, and he had been in the presence of Avella’s spells before, but this? This was on a different level. Had he just witnessed the preserve of the Gods themselves?

  Leo glanced back at the Godshard; he could see that her eyes were still glowing, and even as they faded, a fire still burned within them. Her black robes and headdress fluttered in the stormy wind as she gently lowered her arms. She noticed Leo staring. “That is how the spell is supposed to go. Not like Venito,” she said with a petulant smirk.

  “Indeed.” Leo sputtered, still in a daze.

  “Well done, Godshard,” said Petro.

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but . . .” Curio interjected as he pointed behind them. They turned, and all cause for celebration died. Leo’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He could hear quiet gasps from the rowers. Avella clutched her spell stones. Leo hoped her spellcraft would be good enough.

  There was a second vessel. An even bigger one. And it was almost on top of them.

  “How did that one sneak up on us?” asked Leo.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Petro said, turning to Avella. “Can you do that trick again?”

  “Watch out!” cried Curio.

  A volley of projectiles pelted the deck—arrows, and bolts made their way around the tower shields and hit the unarmored rowers. Everyone scattered and ducked. Leo hid beneath the hull, and Avella crouched with him, struggling to maintain her incantations.

  Faint wisps of smoke joined the chorus of missiles; one breached the shields. One scraped Leo, scratching his arm with black powdered resin. Another hit a Benelim soldier in the head, piercing right through his armored helm.

  “Guns!” Curio spat.

  “I hate guns,” grumbled Petro as he turned to Leo. “Do your realms trade with Maelim?”

  “What? Of course not!” snapped Leo. “They probably scavenged them.”

  Avella stood up, the arrows disintegrating in front of her. A familiar bluish glow protected her. She unbound another stone before bringing her hands together and launching another hot white fireball. It shot out like a falling star toward the vessel.

  A blue barrier then appeared in front of the enemy ship, making Avella’s oncoming blast dissipate upon contact.

  Leo’s eyes widened. It looked exactly like the same type of protection she was using. But that would mean . . .

  “They must have a Godshard on board!” exclaimed Petro.

  Avella scowled, her glowing eyes flared, and she hissed under her breath, “A traitor.”

  Leo backed away. He had never seen her like this before. “We must flee; if we can make it to Tressviae, we can get the river patrol’s assistance.”

  Curio pointed ahead and said, “We have no time for that,” A large object was rising above the Maelim vessel, the foul creatures groaning as they lifted the apparatus via pulleys.

  It was a great wooden bridge; spikes jutted at the end. Petro cursed in his own tongue and signaled the crossbowmen. “Sagittarii!”

  The crossbowmen rushed to aim, but another volley from the Maelim ship scattered them, only the occasional bolts launching forth. It was nowhere near enough. With great force, the bridge slammed into the vessel’s bow; the impact pushed the entire front of the ship dangerously low into the water. Oars snapped and shattered, water sprayed over them, and Leo fell to the deck floor and struggled to regain his footing.

  With a monstrous cheer, the Maelim rushed across the bridge. Eager red and black eyes lusting for carnage whooped and hollered as they came across.

  Petro gave another order in his own tongue. Two armored Benelim rushed to the bow. They held strange cylindrical devices Leo had never seen before. They had bellows on one end and a long pipe on the other, all built into a larger tube. Their purpose was made clear as gouts of fire came out with a pressing of the bellows. It was different from a regular flame; it stuck to the wooden bridge like liquid, unquenchable even as water splashed over it.

  Maelim shrieked in agony as they were scorched, panicking and wailing, diving into the water in search of relief or death. Even Leo was shocked at their screaming and turned to Petro with a scowl. “Guns are horrible. But this is fine?”

  Petro grew silent, and his bravado faded. “We were aiming for the bridge.”

  Leo rolled his eyes and thrust his sword, putting a Maelim out of its misery. A wall of flame kept anymore Maelim from boarding. The lull allowed the Benelim to form a defensive phalanx, spear points bracing.

  Everyone stopped to catch their breaths. They could hear loud yelling and cursing from the Maelim ship. The smoke from the flames blocked their line of sight.

  In the next moment, the two flame-thrower-wielding Benelim were yanked toward their very handy work. All anyone could do was gasp as an unseen force raked them across the burning bridge. Their armor melted and faces burned in moments. Their wailing pierced the air. Leo cringed and looked away.

  Avella’s eyes widened before redoubling in anger. She strode forward, fists clenched and teeth gritted. “I know you’re there, traitor! I command you to come forth!” She raised an arm, chanting. Her hand turned into a light. It shined through the rain, the darkness, everything. The radiance snuffed out the flames. It was as if she had become another sun. Both sides turned away from the brightness.

  The mysterious Godshard manifested above the bridge with a faint hiss of pain. He wore an outfit similar to hers, except instead of a headdress, he wore an enclosed hood that covered everything except his eyes, which held the Godshard glow.

  The two Godshards stared each other down.

  “How dare you! How dare you use your powers in such a manner! By the authority of the Sacerdozio della Città Isola, I hold you in contempt of the Twin Path, our sacerdozio, and of Omnitus, of which we are all a part. I will give you one chance to surrender.” Her glowing eyes brightened before she continued, “Will you come quietly, or will I have to make you?”

  The rogue Godshard raised his fists. Avella unbound a spellstone and shot a lightning bolt at him. In an instant, she was flying backward, away from the vessel and into the water, the scent of ozone lingering over the crack in her barrier as she sank beneath the waves.