Waterfall

Chapter One

On the east coast of England, 1786

The water here churned angrily.

But why?

Black fog, thick as mutton stew, swirled around Jordan and blocked out the light of the moon. He pulled back the oars, feeling the rough wood chafe against his calfskin gloves. The lapping of water against the boat hull cried out to him. He closed his eyes tight, tensing as he reached out with all his soul’s power. He reached out to feel and be as one with the water’s thoughts. They had to be nearing land. The hairs on his arms stood up.

Pain, anguish and the specter of death scaled up his arms and sliced him deep inside. He gritted his teeth. He did not want to feel such agony. Something dreadful, he sensed, had happened since he had departed to retrieve his brother Ferrous from their Isle only the day before.

The band of blue scales surrounding his elbows itched in warning. “Damn it.” He sighed and dragged his fingernails across them through his wool greatcoat. Only three boat lengths of water remained before the red sand and pebbles of Blood Cove. He inhaled deep. Acrid blood mixed with a rotting sea-plant stench hung in the air. The scent of death. His stomach clenched in revolt. “Drop weight.” The words stuck in the humid air between him and Ferrous.

“The sky is so black. I hope I will not hit a serpent.” Ferrous leaned over the edge of the boat with the heavy twine-bound rocks in his hands. “Remember the first time we anchored here? That bloody thing nearly ate my arm.” With a splash, the boat slowly stilled.

“It was only a water snake, Ferrous.” A Zir afraid of snakes. Jordan shook his head.

Ferrous stood, rocking the boat. “So you say.” The whites of his eyes were the only thing visible on his dark face as he glanced back over his shoulder at Jordan. “It feels as if hell itself spit upon the shore here, Jordan.”

The fine hairs on Jordan’s body wavered with unease. Despite its name, the cove had always been peaceful. The pain and destruction fluttering inside as he reached out to the shore was not. “What lies ashore is not what we know as the Blood Cove.” Though maybe the cove was now literally named, he thought.

Ferrous leapt from the boat and splashed into the water, trudging toward shore. “That’s bloody cold.”

Jordan grasped the edge of the boat and threw his legs over, plunging into icy water that shot dagger-like pain up his legs.

Ferrous stepped out onto the rocks lining the shore.

“What do you see here, Ferrous?”

His brother moved from the water into the heavy mist and out of sight. “Wreckage shattered about the rocks and sand. Hell’s demons certainly spit here.”

Jordan stayed in the chilling water. He needed to know what it told. His eyelids fluttered, and he tightened his gut once more. In bursts of light, scenes vividly slashed through his mind. A boat hull burst open amongst screams, and blood spilled into the water like a shot-open wine barrel. A storm-colored bird with glowing green eyes flew above the mast as the wreckage dipped into the sea.

This was no simple run a’ rocks. There were no survivors here, and that was purposeful. He wanted no part in knowing this deed. With a growl, he spun toward the shore and Ferrous. Nothing but hell’s shadows played before him. He wanted to leave this cove and commence on the road to London with haste.

“Should we not anchor here?” Ferrous’s voice came from one of the shadows to the left. The glow of copper-colored scales peeked out from beneath Ferrous’s coat cuff as he leaned down and picked up an intact bottle. “Champagne”—he tucked the bottle beneath his arm, the glow disappearing again beneath his coat—“surely cannot go to waste.”

Jordan’s lips curved into a smile. How like his brother to be thinking of what they could salvage. “We have no choice but to anchor here.” He slogged through the water to shore. “To anchor elsewhere would prove a waste of time. We are needed in London with haste, as Ilmir will only listen to you.”

“A jest, that is. Our brother listens to no one.” Ferrous materialized out of the black fog. His steel-blue eyes glanced at Jordan. An untold emotion flashed within the depths, and Ferrous stepped past him, disappearing again into the mist. “We shall weave a cloak over this shambles until we return.”

They couldn’t have authorities finding their boat and then their Isle. “Quite. You shall.”

Ferrous’s power with his element, metal, inspired gaping jaws and bulging eyes, even for the four brothers Zir. Everyone listened to him, and he knew it. Jordan stepped carefully from the water’s edge onto the pebbles and rocks of the shore. Sadly, he didn’t possess the power to make this all appear null.