Truthwitch (The Witchlands 1)

“—and a Carawen stiletto.”

“He will not feel that either, but”—Evrane shifted into the Marstoki language too—“we will all drown if you do not finish quickly.”

The man sneered. “I can only work so fast. This wretched Nomatsi has the flesh of demon-spawn.”

In a move too quick to prevent, Safi ripped a knife from Evrane’s baldric and thrust it against the man’s neck. “Say that again, and you die.”

The man’s glare deepened—but he also put new effort into his work. More cannon fire sounded, but it seemed a thousand miles away. As did the stink of dead fish and the tickling of the healer’s beard.

At last, Safi’s voice cut through Iseult’s pain: “You’re finished? The wound is healed?”

“Yes, though she will need time to recover.”

“But she will not die?”

“No. Unfortunately. ’Matsi filth—” The man’s voice choked off, replaced by a howl, and the feel of his beard vanished from Iseult’s stomach.

Just as Iseult’s vision started to sharpen and clear, Safi shoved the healer toward the other sailors. “Damn you,” she spat after him. “Son of a Voidwitch. May you tumble through the hell-gates forever—”

“That’s enough,” Iseult said.

She tried to stand. Evrane crouched low, offering her a hand—no, offering her something in her hand. A short cord with a tiny Painstone.

“This will numb you until the healer’s magic is finished.” She slipped the cord over Iseult’s right wrist. The stone flared to life—and the pain washed back. Fresh energy coursed through her, and she even managed a smile for Evrane as she stood.

The instant Iseult reached her feet, though, a sharp light filled her eyes.

She couldn’t see a thing for the silver radiance of it, vibrating and swirling. Flashing with lines of purple hunger and black death …

Threads, Iseult realized, fear and awe mingling together. The largest Threads she had ever seen—at least half the length of the boat. And oddest of all, they seemed to come from beneath the hull. Underwater.

“Something’s coming,” she whispered. “Something massive and … hungry.”

Evrane stiffened. Then she grabbed Iseult’s shoulder. “Can you see animal Threads?”

“No.” The silver and black were so bright, so fast. “But what else would be under the boat?

“Noden save us,” Evrane breathed. “The sea foxes are he—”

The last of Evrane’s words were lost in an explosion of water and sound. The warship tipped back as something huge—something monstrous—crashed up from the sea.

Water rained down, and the bound Marstoks shouted their terror.

But Iseult barely noticed the sailors—all she saw was the creature before her. A serpent as wide as the ship’s mast snaked from the waves toward the starboard prow. Rather than scales, it wore thick silver fur, and its head was shaped like a fox’s—though ten times … twenty times larger than any normal fox.

As it snapped its jaw and swiveled toward the warship, Iseult saw more teeth than any natural creature should possess.

And fangs. The thing most definitely had fangs.

But what scared Iseult the most was how the creature blazed with the Threads of the bloodthirsty—and how its mouth was opening wide …

The creature screamed.

* * *

When Ryber had described a sea fox, this was not what Safi had imagined.

And she definitely hadn’t imagined that it would scream like the souls of the damned. A thousand layers screeched from the monster’s mouth—and then screeched from a second monster now towering over the Jana nearby.

Safi’s eardrums split, and she was vaguely aware of her pulse ramping up. She flung a glance toward the Jana, searching for Merik across the foaming sea—but her search was short-lived when the nearest fox’s shriek broke off.

It had found a target: one of the Marstoks closest to the ship’s rail. The man’s hands sparked and sputtered as he reached for his witchery, but with his wrists bound, he was too clumsy to fight back.

Safi scrambled to her feet, thrust out her knife, and roared, “Leave him alone!”

The sea fox whipped its long neck Safi’s way.

Shit. Safi had just enough time to admire the icy blue of the monster’s eyes—zooming in fast—before she flung out her throwing knife. It stabbed an inky pupil, and the sea fox flipped down, screaming, to splash beneath the water. The boat tipped dangerously, but the sea fox didn’t resurface.

Safi flung a desperate glance at the Jana and found the second sea fox had left as well.

“Nice job,” called Iseult. She stepped carefully across the main deck, clearly not in possession of her sea legs. A cleaver gleamed in her left hand.

Safi’s heart soared into her skull. Seeing Iseult, standing tall—no matter if her energy was from the Painstone—made Safi want to laugh in relief. Or cry. Probably both.

But it was Iseult’s eyes that really got her. They were bright and they were open.

“New weapon?” Safi asked, her voice embarrassingly pinched and thick.

Iseult’s lips quirked up. “I have to save your hide somehow.”

Safi’s throat squeezed tighter. “Carawen steel is the best, you know.”

“It is,” Evrane growled, stalking toward the girls—sea legs strong against the boat’s trembling. “And you, Domna”—she glared at Safi—“just wasted that steel on making the monster angrier.”