James Wyatt - Storm dragon

“Jordhan!” Rienne cried. She dashed up the gangplank behind Gaven, gripped Gaven’s arm and swung past him, nearly sending him toppling off the side. She leaped into the grinning captain’s arms, making him stumble backward onto the deck as he returned her enthusiastic embrace.

“Now do you see why I was so anxious to get here?” Gaven asked, laughing.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Rienne didn’t relinquish her hold on Jordhan, but spun him around so she could see Gaven over his shoulder. “How long have you known he was here?”

“I came out for a walk very early this morning and spotted the Sea Tiger here. I had barely settled in my seat at the inn when you came downstairs.”

Finally Rienne released her tight hold on the captain, though she kept her hands on his shoulders as she looked at his face. “Look at you! You haven’t changed a bit.”

Jordhan winked. “And you’re as lovely as ever, Rienne.”

“Are you sure about this, Jordhan?” Gaven asked, clapping the captain’s shoulder. “It’s an enormous risk you’re taking.”

Jordhan kept his eyes on Rienne as he spoke. “I’ve been playing it safe for far too long.”

“What have you been doing?” Rienne asked, finally relinquishing her grip on him. “I haven’t seen you in-”

“Twenty-six years?” Gaven interjected.

Jordhan looked down at the deck. “Give or take.” He brightened. “Come on, I’ve got your old cabin ready for you.”

“It’s just like old times, isn’t it?” Gaven said. “Coming back from someplace desolate and dangerous, a load of Khyber shards in the hold-you did load the dragonshards, didn’t you, Jordhan?”

They all laughed. Rienne’s thoughts went to the Heart of Khyber, the one dragonshard they did carry on this journey-the cause of all their trouble. She squeezed Jordhan’s arm. “It’s wonderful to see you,” she said. “And we’re so grateful.”

“It’s nothing. I owe you two my life many times over.”

“We wouldn’t have had to save your life if we hadn’t dragged you into such trouble,” Gaven said. “Thank you, old friend.”

Rienne looked back over her shoulder as she and Gaven started down the stairs to the little aft cabin they had shared on so many journeys, so long ago. Jordhan watched them go, a little smile on his lips and sadness in his eyes.

I always figured Jordhan would be at your door courting you as soon as I was off the scene,” Gaven said. He couldn’t look at her; he busied himself with his hammock while she rummaged in her pack. Even as he said it, he wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say in response.

“Jealous?” she asked.

“Me? I suppose I was at times. And furious at what seemed like a betrayal compounded. And once in a while, late at night, maybe glad at the thought of my two best friends happy together, even if I couldn’t share that joy.”

He felt Rienne lay her hand gently on his back. “Oh, Gaven,” she whispered. He turned a little, and met her eyes gazing up at him. She shook her head slowly. “He came by a few times in the first months. He was the only friend we shared who understood what I’d done, and his friendship meant the world to me in those months. But he never courted me.”

“What would you have done if he had?”

“Now why would you ask a question like that?” She turned to her pack again, jingling the buckles for a moment. “He stopped coming within a year’s time. It was just too painful for both of us-you were always so conspicuous in your absence. But when he stopped coming, it was even worse.”

Something clenched in Gaven’s chest, and he stepped behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You were alone.”

She took a deep, sobbing breath, and Gaven enfolded her in his arms. She turned around and buried her face in his chest.

“I always imagined you at home,” Gaven said, “carrying on with your life-the life of a beautiful noblewoman with the world at her feet. I still can’t quite believe you never married. And when I escaped, you came looking for me.”

“Of course I did.” She lifted her tear-streaked face to him. “Oh, Gaven. I know Dreadhold must have been terrible for you, and I’m so sorry, but-”

“But you were as much a prisoner as I was.” She started to bury her face again, but he put a gentle hand under her chin and lifted it. “I’m sorry, Rienne.”

She straightened her back and shoulders, stretching up toward him. Kissing her, he knew beyond doubt that all was forgiven.

House Lyrandar’s airships were certainly their crowning achievement, but Gaven simply exulted in the speed, power, and grace of the Sea Tiger, seabound as she was. A water elemental was bound into the hull, channeled through arcane traceries carved into the fine Aerenal wood, and manifest in the enormous ring of churning water that surrounded the ship. The elemental lifted her from the water, carried her over rough waves, and propelled her along, even as the wind filled the sails at Jordhan’s command. They saw the lights of Flamekeep after sunset on the first day-a journey that would have taken at least two days on horseback. There was no faster vessel on the sea.

The sea-Gaven had forgotten how much he loved it. Though still enclosed within Scions Sound, he could almost taste the open water, blue spread forever above and below him, the water lifting him up, and the wind surrounding him. It was much like flying on an airship, he imagined-with the land stripped away, nothing stood between him and the sky. It made him feel like he could soar with the gulls overhead, as easily as the black-and-white porpoises in the water rode the Sea Tiger’s bow wave.

Even in the course of a day’s travel, Gaven could see and feel the weather changing. Summer arrived later in Aundair than it did in Korranberg, certainly, and it brought more rain, especially thunderstorms. During the second night, they came upon a terrible storm. At the first resounding crack of thunder, Gaven sprang out of his hammock and went up on deck, where the rain drenched him. All around him, the crew of the Sea Tiger struggled to secure loose objects as the ship tossed on the churning sea, and he heard the night pilot order a mate to wake the captain. The command made sense-only an heir of the Mark of Storm could reliably command the ship’s bound elemental, and the night pilot did not carry that dragonmark.

Before the mate could rouse Jordhan, though, Gaven lifted a hand to the sky. A flash of lightning silhouetted him, then another bolt struck him. He laughed as its power coursed through him, splintering off from his other hand into five harmless showers of sparks.

The rain stopped, and in a moment the wind died down-enough still to carry the Sea Tiger on her way, but no more. Sailors stood around Gaven in awe, staring skyward at the Ring of Siberys shining through a hole in the towering thunderheads above them-a hole that moved slowly across the sky as they continued their northward journey.

Gaven stayed on deck until morning, delighting in the storm’s distant dance, the flashes of lightning all around them. When the sun rose in a crystal blue sky, the sailors around him cheered, clapping him on the back in congratulations. But he mourned the storm’s passing.

The morning of the third day brought a glimpse of Storm-home, its towers and bridges gleaming pink in the dawn’s first light. Beyond it, the sea stretched on seemingly forever, fading into white at the horizon. Avoiding the site of his ancestral home for the time being, Gaven found a place to stand on the deck where he could not see any land-just rolling ocean. He knew that the Frostfell lay beyond, holding the far north in a perpetual winter, but from where he stood it was a fantasy, all land was fantasy, there was only him, the Sea Tiger, and the endless, boundless sea.