Mel Odom - Wrath of the Blue Lady

“Be strong.” Captain Porgad clapped Droust on the shoulder. “One way or the other, this will soon be over.”

White-capped waves slammed into Grayling . The ship shuddered like an animal in its death throes. The howling of the storm and the hammering of the ocean near deafened Droust.

One of the crewmen threw lengths of rope over the side as he raced forward. Three others followed him. All of them dived to the ship’s deck as lightning touched the mizzenmast. Flames twisted up around the wet wood and stabbed into the angry sky like a torch. Even the downpour couldn’t quench the fire.

Grayling twisted and heaved like boar fighting wolves. The crewmen holding Droust banged into each other, but they managed to keep hold.

“Throw him over.” Captain Porgad held fiercely to the creaking railing.

The crewmen swept a thrashing Droust up from the deck and lifted him high enough to put him over the railing headfirst. He screamed until his throat tore. Black water surged at Grayling’s stern. The obsidian clouds twisted and turned as they rushed forward and overtook the ship.

“No!” Droust kicked and fought to no avail. There were too many of them to resist. They were going to put him over. “Please!”

The woman screamed again, only this time the crewmen heard it as well. Her howl of unrestrained fury pierced even the storm’s thunderous boom’s like an unholy crescendo. Instinctively, they ducked. Droust’s head thudded against the railing. For a moment he thought he imagined what happened next.

A feminine face appeared in the swirling black clouds. She was beautiful, but her gaze held a shark’s merciless fierceness. Feral wildness clung to her and lent her regal bearing. She was tall and thin, long limbed. Her pointed ears stood revealed beneath her flowing mane.

She shouted, but her words were carried off by the wind. She pointed at Droust.

“She wants the scholar.” One of the crewmen holding Droust drove a fist into his side and knocked the air from his lungs.

“Then give him to her!” The second man shoved Droust toward the railing.

The crewmen redoubled their efforts to heave Droust over the side. The woman closed the distance, her eyes focused on Droust. Then a spear and a long, lissome arm appeared out of the black clouds.

With unerring accuracy, the thrown spear plunged through the heart of the crewman to Droust’s left and through the chest of the man behind him. Their hot blood splashed the scholar and brought momentary and grotesque warmth against the storm’s chill bite.

The men, one dead and the other grievously wounded, sagged. Droust’s legs and body dropped but he saw the woman stride out of the clouds.

“She’s walking on water!” One of the nearby crewmen scuttled away, in awe of what he witnessed.

“Umberlee sent her! We’ve angered the Bitch Queen!”

Lightning blazed and reflected on the woman’s seashell armor and small clam shell shield. A long sword hung at her side, but she left it there. She stretched forth her hand and closed it. When she did, the spear vanished from the bodies of the crewmen and reappeared in her grip.

“Bayel Droust.” Her voice sounded loud during a lull in the thunder.

The headache throbbing between Droust’s temples increased its unrelenting ferocity. It felt like his mind was slowly shattering.

“Let him go.” The woman’s words carried a curious inflection, as if she weren’t used to the common tongue. Her black cloak twisted behind her.

Then Droust saw her inhumanly silver eyes for the first time.

Eladrin , the scholar thought.

“Arm yourselves.” Captain Porgad lifted his blade and stood his ground. Around him, his men took up cutlasses, battle axes, and belaying pins. Droust knew they would have run if they’d only had a place to go.

The woman vanished in a blaze of lightning. For a moment Droust thought she’d disappeared or fallen into the sea. In the next, she reappeared on the deck.

Highly trained and experienced in battle, Captain Porgad and his crew wheeled on the woman. She thrust the spear forward and pierced the captain’s throat. Blood cascaded down the front of his blouse as he stared dumbly at the weapon that had killed him.

The death of the captain paralyzed the crewmen like spider venom for a moment, but-pushed by self-preservation and past combat experience-they rallied and attacked. With a gesture and a quickly spoken word, a blast of wind lifted the woman’s attackers from their feet and knocked them backward. Three of them sailed over the stern railing and dropped into the sea. She gestured and once more the spear reappeared in her hand. Calmly, she turned to the three men standing near Droust.

“This will be your only chance to flee,” she said.

The crewmen sprinted amidships. One of them heaved himself over the sterncastle railing and crashed to the deck.

The woman focused her attention on Droust. He pushed his feet against the deck and tried to inch away.

“Bayel Droust,” she said.

The scholar didn’t know if he heard her musical voice with his ears or inside his head. He gazed at her.

“I don’t know you.” He didn’t hear his own whisper.

“But I know you.” She stood effortlessly in the midst of the storm’s onslaught.

Renewed fear locked cold fingers around Droust’s heart. Her announcement sounded like a threat.

She approached and gazed down at him. Her skin shone blue in the glare of lightning. The water elves, the alu’Tel’Quessir , that lived in the Sea of Fallen Stars were sometimes blue like that. But this was no sea elf.

“Lady, I thank you for my life.” Droust didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Instinct told him he wanted as far from her as he could get.

Grayling strained against the storm. Her timbers continued to creak and a few of the yards snapped off to jerk at the ends of the rigging. Hoarse voices sounded from amidships. The sailors would regroup and try to attack. Onboard the ship, they had nowhere to go.

“You will pay for it.” A cruel smile curved the woman’s lips. She slid her shield up her arm and transferred her spear to her left hand. Then she grabbed the front of Droust’s robe and lifted him with no apparent effort.

Before Droust could attempt to stand on his own, the woman kicked the stern railing. Wood split and fell away. She strode forward and dropped at once, still holding onto Droust as if he weighed nothing.

A scream ripped from the scholar’s throat as the sea sped up at him. He expected the cold water to engulf him. Instead, he stopped only inches above the heaving surface. The woman righted him and turned back to gaze at the ship.

Grayling drew away and remained barely visible against the swarm of black clouds. The lanterns serving as her running lights faded one by one, but the fire atop the mizzen remained bright.

The woman gestured with her spear. The storm’s fury lashed the ship. Lightning struck Grayling repeatedly and lit fires along her. Winds ripped away her yards in a tangle of rope, then snapped off her masts. A black wave rose up and heeled her hard to starboard.

When the wave passed, Grayling was gone. The storm abated, breaking up with astonishing quickness. Stars peered from the black sky.

“What have you done?” Droust demanded in a hoarse voice.

The woman released Droust and he started to plunge through the water. When she caught him again, this time by wrapping her long fingers around his head to buoy him, he was submerged to his waist.

“Bayel Droust.” She eyed him calmly. “You will pay for the life I give you. If you don’t, I will take it back.” Then she squeezed her hand.

Pain filled Droust’s head. He would have sworn he heard his skull fracturing. Incredibly, he felt her fingers sinking through his flesh, through his bone, then she touched his mind.