Page 150 of The Daughters of Avalon
“Pity that… new ship.”
“Can’t see anybody’s gonna make it out alive.”
It was only then she peered up, her gaze focusing on the angry column of smoke that spewed upward into the bright, sunny sky—the ominous image so incongruous with the day that it momentarily confused her.
And then she looked closer… spotting a congress of ravens, flying altogether in a swell, and her heart constricted painfully…Morwen.
Jack gave a holler, pushing through the crowd, shoving men and women alike as he abandoned Seren to the crowd.
Fueled by something else, not only the desire to keep up, Seren hurried behind him, her heart hammering painfully, as she, too, pushed her way through a thickening crowd.
Less than twenty minutes;that’s all it took to ferret out his smoked bird, part with another copper and swallow his supper whole. Swiping the film of grease from his lips with his sleeve, Wilhelm re-emerged into the marketplace, feeling replete. There was naught like a belly-full to clear the head. But he stopped cold, catching sight of the thick column of smoke rising into the afternoon sky.
It was coming from the docks.
Something like dread shot through him, spurring him into movement. Cutting through the mob, he ran until he could see the smoke’s origin, and there he froze again.
It was the Whitshed…
All ships were potential fire traps, but this one burned with a vengeance.
Even as he watched, a brilliant blue ball shot up from the ship’s bowels, spitting yarns and yarns of blue flame, like a dragon spewing fire.
God’s bones! Even at this distance he could hear the crackling of wood and the ocean hissing beneath the ship’s burning belly. It was unlike anything he’d ever witnessed. From stem to stern, the Whitshed was a raging inferno.
A sick feeling curdled his gut—something like indigestion, only worse, though it had little to do with the greasy turkey leg he’d just consumed.
It was all he could do not to chug it up as he stood watching… remembering… the stink of burning flesh. “Sweet Mother of Christ,” he said, under his breath.
Horrified, but drawn toward the flames, he moved slowly forward, pushing silently through the crowd, even despite thathe stood heads taller than most men, and could see more than he wished to see.
The closer he came to the inferno, the hotter his face burned, until he could venture no closer.
There was only one thing he knew for certain: If the Pendragon sisters were aboard that ship, they were caught in a hell storm. It was not survivable—not even for witches.
Swallowing convulsively, his first thought was for his brother’s wife. Already, Rosalynde had suffered more than enough heartache, and this was bound to devastate her. He’d made her a promise—to find and return her sisters. He’d begged her not to worry, and every day of these past few months he’d dedicated every waking moment to locating her sisters. Only, once he’d managed to find them, he’d taken his sweet time about retrieving them, utterly failing his mission.
Twenty minutes,he thought.Twenty bloody minutes.
The ship was a pyre. Two hundred tons, and twenty five meters of roaring tinder, and even as he stood watching, the masthead cracked, then buckled, toppling straight into the burning bowels of the Whitshed, even as another roaring ball of blue flame erupted from the ship’s entrails.
Bits of material—God knew what else—rained down from the sky. The remembered stench sent his mind reeling and his stomach heaving. He leaned over, spewing his guts on the back of a spectator’s boots, then wiped his hand across his mouth. The man wailed in complaint, fists curling by his sides as he turned, then froze as he faced Wilhelm… and then Wilhelm saw her.
Seren Pendragon.
She was unmistakable, with that rich mane of golden-red curls—a tumbling cascade not unlike the shade of a pale, cool flame.Shoving the sour-faced lout out of his way, he bolted in her direction.
Seren stood frozen,her heart wrenching painfully as Jack bolted toward the fiery wreckage. Even as he ran, a host of men fell upon him, restraining him and he struggled in vain. “Papa!” he shouted. “Papa! Let me be! That’s my Papa!”
There was another thunderous explosion. Seagulls shrieked as a roiling ball of blue flame catapulted skyward, spewing a shower of bright blue flames. Bits of blackened debris rained down on the crowd. Ash kissed her lips. Even from this distance, she could feel the heat on her face. But it was another flame she tried desperately to locate amidst the burning tinder… that of her sister’s Heart Flame.
If you knew how to sense them, souls were as tangible as any part of a sanguine being—all the more so, for it was the essence of life itself, bound to theaether. But there was nothing remaining of her sister’s life force… only how could she have passed so swiftly, so completely without Seren ever knowing—all the while her attention had been on tarts and treats? Sick to her belly and sick to her heart, she stood, wide eyed and frightened. “Arwyn,” she cried softly.
“Come with me,” demanded a stranger, his hand closing about her arm.
Seren resisted as he tried to drag her away. “Nay,” she refused. “Nay!” Ducking under a man’s arm, she freed herself and bounded toward the wreckage, shouting for Jack.
God’s bones.
