The Spirit War(180)

“Not much,” Miranda said, running beside him. “Success or failure, I have a feeling it’ll be over soon.”

Josef paused when he reached the top of the stairs. Down below, the first line of soldiers had just reached the sand. He hefted his sword, leaning forward. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for her reply before he charged. The soldiers on the beach were focused on their landing, pulling the boats in and watching the air for arrows. They didn’t see him coming until it was too late. He half fell, half ran down the storm wall and landed in the sand swinging. The Heart’s power sang through him, washing away his tiredness. His first blow tossed the closest soldier into the cliffs, his next threw two more into the water. The fourth man had time to draw his blade, but the steel shattered the second it met the Heart’s black edge, and he went flying as well, slamming into the boat he’d been in the middle of hauling onto the sand.

Josef moved in a circle, swinging the Heart back and forth like a scythe to clear a small stretch of beach. The moment the opening was made, Miranda rushed into it. She ran straight for the water, wading in until it reached her knees. As she splashed into the dark bay, Josef could see more water pouring out of her. Beautiful, glowing blue water cascaded from her outstretched hands, falling into the waves lapping at her knees. It was so beautiful, the shimmering, glowing water mixing with the black surf, that Josef nearly lost his arm to a well-aimed stroke. He cursed and resumed swinging, sending the enemy scuttling back. But even as he drove them off, more came. Hoards of black-armored soldiers jumped from their boats, swords drawn. Josef was panting now. He could feel the fatigue in his muscles now even with the Heart’s power roaring through him. That was a bad sign. Even the greatest awakened sword had limits, and he was fast approaching them.

“Spiritualist!” he shouted as the Heart broke another sword. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it quickly!”

If Miranda answered, he didn’t hear. He caught a glimpse of her as he came back around. She was kneeling in the bay, her face inches from the lapping waves. The glowing water was gone, but he could still make out a small, shimmering line of it running from her out into the bay. That was all he saw before he had to turn back to the fight. He cursed louder than ever, forcing his tired muscles to keep moving, keep fighting. Whatever that fool girl was doing, he hoped she was as right as she always seemed to think she was.

That was his last conscious thought before he abandoned himself to the fight completely.

Miranda knelt in the bay, her fingers digging into the sand below the water. The bay was freezing cold, but she didn’t feel it. Battle raged all around her, but she didn’t hear it. All her focus, all her attention, everything she was flowed with Mellinor as he pushed out to sea.

When the inland sea had first told her what he meant to do, she’d balked. After all, it was the threat of being sent to the sea that had driven him to accept her as his mistress in the first place. Sending him there now violated the core of their Spiritualist pact, yet Mellinor had insisted, and Miranda, having no other options, had agreed, but only if they did it right.

She’d made their plan clear as Josef had led the way to the beach. The sea was a mass of unruly water spirits, too large to have names or souls of their own. Any water spirit, even a great one like Mellinor, would be torn apart if he entered the sea on his own. But he wasn’t on his own. Miranda was with him, and her spirit would act as a wall to protect him against the pounding currents. So long as they kept in physical contact, she should be able to pour enough strength into Mellinor to keep him together long enough to do what needed to be done. Or that was the theory, anyway.

“Just stay with me, Miranda,” Mellinor whispered, his voice trembling up the thin tendril of water that connected them as he rushed across the bay. “Don’t leave the water, no matter what.”

Miranda nodded and opened her spirit wider, reaching out with everything she had. She’d never been this close to a spirit. Her mind seemed to blend with Mellinor’s, and suddenly she could feel the ocean all around her as though she were Mellinor. When it happened she nearly fell forward at the shock, sputtering as she took in a great mouthful of bitter seawater. But the burning taste was far away. She was flying with Mellinor through the water, clinging to him as the sea tried to rip them apart. Water pounded her from all directions, cold and sharp and filled with tiny, babbling voices. They pushed her, pulled her, beat her soul like a drum as they tried to break through her and join Mellinor’s water with their own, but Miranda would not let go. She clung to her inland sea with everything she was, her will an iron wall around him as they pushed out of the bay.