Chapter 23

Annabelle Quentin sat behind her desk aboard the Drake, nursing a headache. Every day her frustrations mounted. First it had been the ongoing repairs, with delay after delay, initially with obtaining materials, then snowballing into a worker shortage.

She understood that there were three other merchant vessels docked for repairs, and Miquelon was only a small island, but what had supposed to be a quick fix, done before the Night, was now stretching into the end of the month. It was looking more than likely they would be here when the suns went down.

Only two days ago another Mercantile Association ship limped into the bay, looking like it had been in a major battle. The crew, those still left alive, were screaming about fish people climbing the railings, slaughtering everyone in sight and dragging the bodies into the depths.

Wil had told them about these creatures, the Sahuagin, evil sea-devils from deep below the surface of the Azure Sea. The Azure Lord normally protected the islanders, and the ships that sailed the ocean, from their attacks.

But with the Dragon Turtle infected, it seemed they were becoming bolder.

Rubbing her forehead, she counted the days since Wil had left to meet with the creature. Over a week had passed, and they hadn’t heard a thing from him. When she had asked about his wellbeing, the Priestess, Sophia, had brushed her off, only saying that he was still meeting with Lord Azure.

Sighing, she turned her thoughts to what she still needed to accomplish today. They had a meeting with Edmund scheduled in an hour to discuss the new mast, he was confident they could retrieve it in a few days.

They had found several suitable trees that could work, but the labor required to fell the tree and bring it across the island was scare. Especially with three other ship’s captains all clambering for the same timber. It was only the island merchant’s calm presence that kept the conflict from coming to blows.

Standing, she was preparing to leave when she felt a shiver run down her spine and a feeling of dread pool in the pit of her stomach. And she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that something was terribly wrong with Wil.

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The Azure Lord drifted silently through the water, the current taking the Dragon Turtle as it pleased. The massive creature was heedless of its surroundings, focused on the battle taking place in its “Inner Realm”.

The black lines and the hints of corruption throughout its body were gone, removed when Wil destroyed the ‘body’ of the infection inside of it.

But its mana was now completely gone, Lord Azure could not access even a drop of the silvery liquid inside of its body, the infection had seized all of it. And now the battle for its mind was raging on. It could feel its rationality leaving it, a mindless rage encompassed its being.

Suddenly flailing and spinning in anger, it surged forward, slamming into the ocean floor repeatedly, the infection urging it to destroy and kill. It took all its remaining awareness to not rip and kill every living thing around it.

It felt the life within Wil fading, the ‘mind’ of the infection killing him. Concentrating on keeping its consciousness clear for as long as possible, Lord Azure placed all of its hope on the young human who lay dying.

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Wil was losing awareness of what was happening around him as the pain and weariness darkened his vision and slowed his thoughts. All his world was blackness, pierced by the horrid laughter of the monster approaching him. He could hear the footfalls of the creature, the sickening sound of its stomach dragging across the marble.

In his last moments, he wasn’t thinking of his life’s regrets, or the things he left unfinished. Gods knew that he had enough of both. No, what he thought of were all the people he had met, the friends and family that changed his life for the better.

He remembered Annabelle’s greedy grin when she thought of profits, and that angry look she got when he was planning to do something incredibly stupid. He remembered how kind she was, although she tried to hide it behind her ‘professional merchant’ attitude.

He thought of Garman, a man so unpleasant that Wil wanted to punch him in the face when they first met but had become a mentor and friend. He could imagine what he would say, seeing him lying on the ground, waiting to die.

Wil recalled his adventures with Mara and Bell, Erinn, and Gunther. Only a few months of happy memories in his twenty-one years of life, but it was the best part of it by far. He could almost forgive his father for driving him away and putting his life at risk, since it brought him a lot of good, along with the bad.

Step. Step. Drag. The creature approached.

Wil opened his eyes, not willing to die, not like this. With a strength he didn’t know he possessed, he pushed against the stone floor, standing on his feet once again with agonizing slowness. The laughter echoing from the room became louder, mocking his efforts.

“Tut Tut Tut, still some fight left in you?” It mocked, that grin still on its face.

“Something like that….” Wil whispered, before stumbling to the side, breaking into a run towards the stairs.

“Running away? What would the Azure Lord think of its champion fleeing?” It ridiculed, thrusting a hand towards him, as a tendril of negative energy flickered forward, slashing against Wil’s back.

With a scream, he stumbled further towards the stairs, making it far enough to fall down the steps.

Rolling, he fell downwards, arms and legs flailing as he lacked the strength to stop himself. Halfway down, he felt a sharp pain his arm as the bone snapped, the white splinters sticking from out from his pale skin.

In a tangle of limbs, he collapsed at the bottom of the steps, making it to the sixth floor. He hadn’t escaped unscathed, blood covered his face, and his body was battered. His arm was a mangled mess, a pool of blood forming under him.

Wil blacked out, he didn’t know for how long, but when he awoke, the Fat Man was standing over him, its grotesque hand gripping the remains of his armor, lifting him from the ground and holding him in front of its face.

“Done fighting already?” It laughed, shaking him lightly. Each motion caused a shot of pain to run through his broken arm.

“Not…trying…to fight…” Wil mumbled, pulling on the last dregs of his mana. A small spark formed in his hanging hand, a mote of flame that steadily grew, glowing hotter and brighter. With his last ounce strength, Wil tossed the flame to the side, where it arced slowly in the air, before landing on one of the massive piles of books and parchments.

The dry paper ignited instantly into a great bonfire, the orange-red glow throwing the Fat Man’s face into the harsh light. Wil could see its deformed features twist in rage as it shook him harshly.

“You little bastard!” It hissed. “All that deliciousness…RUINED!” It howled, tossing him hard onto the ground, it channeled its mana around the flames, trying to smother the fire.

“What are you trying to accomplish, burning my meal, for what? To spite meeee!” It shrieked, its black mana forming a thick layer over the bonfire, the flames slowly dying as the necromantic magic drained the life from the flames.

“Not…spite.” Wil whispered, his head splitting from where it had impacted the cold, marble floor. The bleeding from the wound on his forehead was now freely flowing, his blood a bright red against his pale, white skin.

“Trying…get…attention.” Wil said, his eyes unfocused as he watched the stained-glass windows.

With a shattering blow, the Clockwork Owl broke through the window, the glass spraying forward. With it came a great gust of wind, blowing away the black mana and re-igniting the fire. The flames, almost extinguished, roared back to life, swirling in a raging inferno as the Owl continued to stir the air in the spire.

Screeching, it zoomed around the room, and the fire growing out of control, engulfing the other piles of books, and the bookshelves lining the walls. Tens of thousands of books on the sixth level of the Spire burned, their knowledge forever lost.

Screaming in rage, the Fat Man tried to stop the Owl with tendrils of negative energy, but it was too quick and nimble, evading the attacks.

Swooping down low, it clutched Wil in its metallic claws, before turning around and leaving the Spire through the destroyed windows.

Wil’s last sight was the entire floor of the spire on fire, the Fat Man screaming incoherently in rage. Satisfied with the results, he let the darkness pull him under.