Page 166 of The Sea Witch
Witches gathered at the ship’s gunwale. A golden glow collected around them, then shot across the water. As the magic sped over the sea, it pushed the water into a massive wave that headed toward the beach.
Thundering, the wave crashed over another group of marines. Men were carried out into the bay, leaving behind boots and dropped long guns.
The enemy’s numbers thinned. Yet there was still close to a score of marines left on the beach.
Eyes blazing, hair flying around her head in a dark halo, Susannah lifted up, hovering five feet off the ground. Winds buoyed her as she flew over to Inés and Dayanna. More gusts of wind arose to surround the three women. Dayanna and Inés lifted high, joining Susannah. Using her hands to control the wind, Susannah guided them over the advancing men.
Inés’s and Dayanna’s cutlasses gleamed as they slashed down at the men. Terrified, the marines cowered or ran despite the bellowed commands of their officers.
Stasia threw jets of fire at the marines’ powder horns. The gunpowder heated and exploded, and screams followed. As the men fell, Thérèse charged into the fray with her glowing cutlass whirling in a frenzy of attacks.
The admiral and mage strode toward Alys and Ben.
Ben went straight for Strickland. The two faced each other, circling briefly before launching into a clash of cutlass against cutlass. Contempt twisted the admiral’s face, while Ben’s eyeswere cold with fury as he struck and parried skillfully. His jaw was set and hard.
Nearby, Alys hesitated. Should she go to help? Would she only be in the way?
The mage marched toward the action, pulling a small bottle from his pocket and raising it to his lips. Dragon’s blood potion. If the mage drank it, his power would be nearly unstoppable. Alys’s own magic already frayed around the edges. She needed balancing to restore her full ability, yet there wasn’t time for that.
Alys sprinted toward the mage. She rammed her elbow into his hand. The bottle of dragon’s blood flew through the air before spilling in the sand.
“Bitch,” the mage snarled. He drew his cutlass.
“It’switch.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Traitors deserve no trial,” Strickland snarled as he charged at Ben.
“Betrayers deserve no mercy.” Ben widened his stance as his former commanding officer attacked. Sword pointed at Ben’s heart, Strickland sprang forward. The admiral’s posture was perfect, his technique straight from the most respected fencing manual.
Ben parried Strickland’s blow, knocking it to the side. He dove down, rolling across the sand in a way that wouldn’t be found in any sword-fighting book.
Stunned by Ben’s unsanctioned technique, Strickland drew up short. He shouted in pain as Ben’s blade cut just above the admiral’s knee. Blood darkened the fabric of his breeches with crimson. Hobbling, Strickland spun around.
Ben was on his feet when the admiral attacked again with a textbook combination. Ben parried, then slashed across Strickland’s torso. There was a crunching sound as Ben struck hard enough to crack ribs.
Strickland stumbled back and looked down at himself, his expression disbelieving and twisted in pain. He gazed up at Ben, who strode toward Strickland.
A wall of fire sprang between them, its blistering heat forcingthem apart. The admiral’s arrogant face sneered at Ben from the other side of the flames.
“Warne’s protecting me,” Strickland jeered. “What can your witch whore do for you?”
“She can fight,” Ben answered, watching Alys bear down on Warne. “And kill your fucking mage.”
“An ignorant witch is no match for an educated mage.”
Ben drew himself up, his sword ready. “Underestimating women sends you straight to hell.”
Alys trudged through the sand, toward the mage. He turned, just in time for her to kick him in the stomach. Retching, he bent over. Yet the wall of fire continued to blaze between Ben and Strickland.
She summoned a wave. The water crashed over the flames, and they sputtered out. With the fiery barrier gone, Ben moved in quick purposeful assaults as his commanding officer struggled to keep up. Yet Strickland managed to get one blow in, his sword stabbing into Ben’s shoulder.
She cried out in pain as thousands of invisible thorns pierced her skin. Pinpricks of blood dotted her visible flesh, blossoming red beside her freckles. It was as though she was being flayed alive. The mage’s hands formed complex shapes in the air, casting more spells.
Forcing herself upright, Alys slogged toward him. She faked an attack, and he moved to deflect. He spun in one direction and she lunged with her cutlass raised.
She brought her sword down.
