Pellish limestone cliffs hung over this small beach, hollowed out by years of water eroding the rock. In the dawn light Mikil lifted his head and retched seawater out of his lungs and stomach until his muscles ached. Each incoming wave lifted him up off the gravel. Thou shalt live.Ī wave as gentle as a giant paw lifted him up and set him down on a small half circle of gravel and sand. Men live but a short span, but I would not have thy time cut short. Mikil heard a rumbling laugh, neither low nor high, neither male nor female. His energy ebbed he couldn’t swim or float but no matter how hard he tried, he also couldn’t sink. Seawater stung his eyes, entered his nose, burned his hoarse throat, and muffled his hearing. He tumbled around in the waves, battered one way then another, losing all sense of direction. Lautan, let me drown! Lautan, I beseech you, take me to your bosom. He let go of his wooden spar and tried to sink into the cold depths. He hollered until his voice grew hoarse and raw, desperate to find another survivor from the fireball attacks that had crushed his ship and Sea Pearl.Īs the dark pressed in around him, waves and currents carried him farther and farther from the drowned, smoldering carcasses, out into immense solitude and guilt. Prince Mikil of Lortherrod, the worthless second son of King-that-was Nithanil younger brother to current King Rikil executioner of his grievously injured half sister, Queen Cressa, clung to a bit of mast from Shark Racer for hours, weeping and raging.
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