Free The Firebrand Legacy by T.K. Kiser Page B

“David’s hurt. He’s in
the hatch. He needs help.”
    “We all do now,” Alviar said. “This is an
emergency.”
    Lightning struck again. Silence passed
between them. Darkness again. Carine’s heart raced. She read the
plea in Alviar’s words, but didn’t want to fulfill it.
    “Help him.”
    The boat shifted. Alviar grabbed Carine’s
other shoulder to steady her.
    “Listen to me. The ship has been struck. We
are sinking.”
    “Then help him!” It was her first instinct,
but with fading heart, she realized that freeing David from the
flooding room wouldn’t do any good when the ship sank.
    “I will.” But Alviar didn’t move. “This is no
normal storm.”
    Carine found tears in her eyes. Thank the
flames it was dark. Lightning flashed, but if Alviar saw her tears,
he did not blame her.
    “Do you understand what I mean when I say
this is an emergency?”
    Thunder.
    “Where’s David?” Giles yelled suddenly in the
darkness, his voice frantic. For all the days that Carine had seen
Giles on the ship, she had never once heard his voice crack that
way. This frantic Giles was odd and heartbreaking.
    “I’ve got him,” Alviar boomed over his
shoulder. “Arm yourself, young prince! Put on arms, and protect His
Highness!” He turned to Carine. “The bow is hidden in the crew
chamber, under my pillow. Go!”
    “It’s enchanted,” she protested, but Alviar
was already leaving her. She splashed onto the deck as he let her
go.
    “You know nothing,” he said, already quieting
as he went for David.
    “I don’t get involved with magic! Send
someone else!”
    But as the rain pounded the deck and the back
of her hands and water flooded the walkway, no one else was being
sent.

18 First Wish
    At the back of the crew’s chamber between the
last two bunks was a strange creation. The object was a divan, a
stand like a short kneeler with a plush top. Centaurs folded their
legs under themselves, then propped themselves up with the divan,
folded their arms over the top, and slept the night with their
heads on their arms.
    The centaur’s pillow sat on the top of the
divan between both rows of bunks. Pillows and blankets had rolled
off the bed in the storm and were scattered across the floor.
Carine knelt at the stand, water over her knees and calves. Her
forearms rested against the pillow. Biting her lips, she lifted the
pillow.
    There lay a small recurve bow with a blue
bowstring as thin as thread. David said that to pluck that string
was to call for help. Carine didn’t even want to touch it, let
alone pluck it.
    Thunder roared outside.
    Was there a chance—a wish—that Alviar was
right? Could there be both good and evil magic?
    According to Alviar, and to David it seemed,
this bow was just as magical as the most ordinary bow. According to
them, everything in life came forth from one single enchantment.
Carine had always thought that to touch an enchanted object,
wishstone, or Manakor word would lead to death soon after.
    But now, she’d die anyway.
    The bow was light. It was strange, holding an
object in her hands that was dusted with enchantment that fell from
the dragon’s wings. She wished that whatever effect the bowstring
had, it would be quick. That the winds would still and the boat
survive. That David would heal and that the princes would feel
friendship for her as she did for them.
    She plucked the bowstring as hard as she
could without breaking it. She held her breath. The thread left a
flat indent on her finger, but no sound emitted. The wind howled
outside and the water was still rising.
    It hadn’t worked.
    Carine let the string hang on her fingers as
she stood. She fought the water all the way to the door. Alviar had
to fix the bowstring. She opened the door. Rain and waves flooded
in.
    A lightning flash illuminated a line of
silhouettes, notably those of a centaur and three princes
standing—David was standing!—at the edge of the ship, looking
over.
    Darkness, thunder.
    “David!