Then a voice reached her, booming across the water and setting the hair on the back of her neck on end. “Halloo the Vivacia! Who has taken Kennit?”

She turned slowly as a chill raced over her. It was a voice from the grave. Paragon’s voice reached across the water as no man’s could do. She looked at him, and then looked again. It was not Paragon. The battered liveship with its makeshift rigging bore Paragon’s nameplate, but the figurehead was an open-countenanced young man, beardless, with his hair bound back in a warrior’s tail. Then she had a glimpse of a golden woman standing on the deck just back of the figurehead, waving both her arms in a wild greeting. For an instant, all other thoughts and fears were suspended as she watched them come on. She could not see Brashen; there was no way to be sure he was alive, too, but she suddenly felt he must be. Paragon’s eyes were closed and he sailed with his hands stretched blindly before him. That wrung her heart. It was as they had feared. Amber had recarved him, but it had not restored his sight. A white serpent cut the water before his bow.

“They’re alive!” Jek was suddenly beside her, jumping up and down and pounding her on the back with a bloody fist. It was unnerving yet wonderful to be snatched off her feet and whirled around by the larger woman as Jek gave a howl of joy.

“Ho, Paragon!” Vivacia cried in despair, “There, that ship, he’s on board her. They’ll kill him, Paragon, they’ll kill him!” She pointed frantically and uselessly across the water. Her own anchor was just rising from the muck.

Her cry carried to the Marietta and the Motley as well. Althea saw them divert in their courses toward Vivacia to pursue the one Jamaillian ship that was fleeing for the shelter of its fleet.

But Paragon was already underway and the will of a liveship propelled him as much as the wind in his sails. He gathered speed unnaturally. Even the crew of the Vivacia, familiar with the ways of liveships, cried out in wonder as he swept past. Althea had a glimpse of Brashen running down Paragon’s decks with Clef at his heels. At the sight of him, her heart sprang to life in her chest. Then Paragon had swept by them, showing Vivacia his stern. She stood staring, stunned with joy.

The beleaguered crew of the Vivacia had sprung to at the news that their captain was taken. Every man who could move sprang to hoist the anchor and raise the sails. For the time being, they ignored the bodies that littered the deck. The wounded that could staggered to their feet to help run the ship. Malta, unharmed but obviously shaken, wandered, stricken, through the tangled dead. Wintrow had taken command away from the rattled Jola. Etta seemed to be everywhere, lending a hand and shouting for speed at every task.

“Althea!” Jek shouted, breaking her from her trance. “Get moving!” Jek had already joined the men at the anchor.

“After him!” Althea joined her shouts to Wintrow’s. “Paragon must not face them alone!”

Before the anchor was completely out of the water, Vivacia was gathering momentum.

Liveship Traders 3 - Ship of Destiny

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - Rescues

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT KENNIT!” BRASHEN ROARED. “GO BACK FOR ALTHEA!”

“She is safe where she is for now!” Paragon shouted defiantly. “I must have Kennit back. I need him.”

Brashen clenched his teeth. So close, for an instant, and then they had swept past. The need to see Althea and know she was safe hollowed him, but the headstrong ship seemed intent on bearing them to their deaths. Every time Brashen began to trust Paragon, he dashed his hopes again. He defied both rudder and orders, arrowing after the fleeing Jamaillian ship. The white serpent leapt and dove in their bow wave like a dolphin. On the foredeck, Mother leaned on the railing as if she could push the ship to go faster. Amber stood straight and tall, the wind whipping her hair. Her eyes were wide as if she listened to distant music. “At least slow down,” Brashen begged. “Let the other ships pull even with us. We don’t need to face the whole Jamaillian fleet alone.”

But Paragon rushed blindly ahead. Brashen surmised that somehow the white serpent guided him. “I can’t delay. They’ll kill him, Brashen. They might be killing him right now. He must not die without me.”

That had an ominous tone. Brashen suddenly felt a light touch on his wrist. He glanced down to find Kennit’s mother standing beside him. Her pale eyes locked with his dark ones and spoke all the words her tongue could no longer say. The eloquence of that appeal could not be refused. Brashen shook his head, not at her but at his own foolishness. “Go then!” he suddenly shouted at the ship. “Fling yourself forward blindly. Satisfy whatever madness drives you once and for all.”