A candle burned on a table by my feet when I woke.  The smell of wood smoke and burnt flesh pervaded the air in Mort’s cabin.  My side ached, but the wound was healed.  I sat up slowly, looking around at the cabin.  Mort kept a clean space with very few personal effects.  Little light filtered through the slightly ajar door, but muffled words reached me.

“The wall is breaking down,” Mort insisted.  “If I place a new one, it will eventually break down as well.”  He paused, and when he continued he spoke as if to himself.  “She has strength and magic I’ve not encountered before.  I wonder what drives it….”

“You said she would comply through pain,” Roglin snapped.  “You didn’t say anything about pain waking her up.”

“I told you I didn’t know what exactly would happen,” Mort hissed.  “This restraint has not been attempted over an extended timeline, or with such a complicated case.  We need to keep her isolated until we can be rid of her.  I don’t know what will set off a chain reaction that could result in our destruction.”

“We have three days until we make port.  Thankfully, it is a larger one.  We should be able to find a buyer.  Do you know of anyone that would want to buy an unskilled mage, Mort?”

Their voices faded when I rolled onto my side and felt a sharp bite of pain in my head.  Awareness flared with the pain, and I recalled a brilliant light, but the pain subsided and so did the memory.

Footsteps approached and the two men in the hall fell silent.

“What happened in there?” Bryn demanded.  “She almost killed us and set the ship on fire!”

“She is more capable than I expected,” Mort replied.  “Her magic is stronger than any I have faced before.  And standard measures of control aren’t strong enough to contain it.”

“What does that mean?” Bryn insisted.  “Can you keep her from attacking us or not?”

“Easy,” Roglin said.  “We’ll be rid of her soon enough.”

None of the men spoke, leaving the hall in silence before Roglin spoke again.  “She will be confined to her quarters until we reach port and I need you to keep her fed until then.  I want constant guard on her door; I’ll assign some men to relieve you.  You bring her food, but do not engage her otherwise.  Understood?”

“Yes, captain,” Bryn sighed.  Heavy footfalls receded down the hall.  Moments later Bryn and Mort crossed the threshold to the cabin.

“Bryn will escort you to your cell.  Do not exert yourself or I may see you again,” Mort told me.  He busied himself at the table with his few belongings and did not spare a glance for me as I moved from the bunk and out the door.

Bryn stood silent as I entered my cell.  I walked to the far wall, turned, and sat on the small pile of blankets serving as my bed.  When I looked back toward the door, Bryn stood in the same place.  He searched my face for a few moments; his mouth opened once as if about to speak, but he closed it and walked out.  The key clicked in the lock and I sat alone in the dim light.

        A short time later the door opened, revealing Bryn holding a single candle in one hand and a crust of bread in the other.  He closed the door behind him and crossed the room to place the bread in my upturned palm.

        I took a bite, the dry bread scratching my raw throat when I swallowed.  Bryn’s eyes never left my face while he took a seat against the far wall.  My small meal finished, I waited in silence as he studied me.

        “What are you?” he whispered.

        “A woman,” I replied.

        “There’s more to it than that,” he insisted.  He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed.  “Mort says that you have some strange magic that he’s never seen.  I think magic is strange enough, but for you to have something that he hasn’t seen….”  He trailed off and finally pulled his eyes away from mine.  “This is too much.”

He stood and strode through the door, leaving the candle in the spot he had vacated.  It closed with a thud, and the key rotated in the lock again, leaving me with the flickering light of the candle to ward off the darkness.  I stared at the flame that wavered in the draft curling in under the door to my cell.  The occasional thump of Bryn’s feet sounded on the other side of the door when he shifted his weight.  Waves lapping against the hull were the only other sounds that reached me.

Hours later, Bryn’s relief arrived.  A few gruff words were exchanged, and then Bryn shuffled off to find his rest.  By this time my eyes burned from exhaustion, and I decided to lie down to sleep.  My eyes closed, and images of the day’s events flickered at the edge of my mind.

Half seen pictures of people and places, fire and burning fabric floated in and out of my consciousness.  With those pictures came fleeting images of an intense light trapped, but it faded as I let myself drift into sleep.

        Dreams visited my slumber for the first time in months.  Always running, I dodged huge walls that stretched so high they blocked out the sky.  Blue eyes turned to orbs of light that called out to me only to be locked behind black bricks.  Roglin stood laughing as I tried to fight my way free.

        The wall loomed above me again; a crack in the black edifice caught my eye and I skid to a halt.  The crack let light and color through, spreading from a hole that disintegrated before my eyes.  I reached out to touch the hole and found that the brick crumbled at my touch.  In a frantic rush I pulled at the wall, tearing away large handfuls to toss them into the blackness surrounding me.  Mist encroached all around, threatening to smother me, but I waved my arms to dispel it.  Though it abated, it began to surround me as soon as I turned back to the wall.

        Lethargy bloomed within as the mist caressed my skin, but the growing light blossoming from the wall helped to push it away, beckoning me onward.  The breach became as big as my torso, and still I continued.  Light and color swelled, blocking the mist, beating away the apathy.

        I lashed out with my feet, pounding against the wall with such fervor that the section collapsed in a heap.  Panting, I stood gazing at the results of my efforts, bathed in light more brilliant than the sun at its peak, more colorful than the sky at sunset.  It warmed me and called me forward.

        Without hesitation I stepped forward into the embrace of something entirely strange and entirely familiar.  It blinded me and filled me with every part of myself that had been missing.  My memories, my emotions, and my will to live free and escape this waking nightmare became part of me again.  This wall had held them all back, and now I had broken through.

        I woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in my cell.  With my eyes wide I surveyed my cell, noticing again how filthy the floor was.  My hands, my face, my hair and my clothes all stank with weeks of unwashed grime.

        Along with the grime, the same light I had fought to free in my dream bathed my body in a faint glow.  My hands rotated back and forth, bringing illumination to the otherwise dark cell.

        My eyes stopped on the door, and I stood.  The door marked my path to freedom, and I now had the drive to follow it.  My bare feet moved silently across the floor until I stood with my ear to the door.

        The guard cleared his throat and stomped his feet, but through the thick door that was all I could hear.  I concentrated, trying to discern whether anyone else moved along the corridor.  The light around me intensified as I used more than my ears to listen, and voices from above became audible.  At first only garbled conversation, the words became clear enough for me to follow.

        “We have to be rid of her if she’s gonna burn up the ship,” a man grumbled.

        “If it comes to that, I have orders to put her down,” Mort replied.  “But it will be my call, and until then you men are to stay away.”

        “We should just kill her and be done with it,” another man interjected.  “Before she kills us!”

        Grumbles of assent rang out over Mort’s objections, and I pulled away from the door.  Though shocked and a bit pleased that I had used my magic, it paled in comparison to being killed by an angry mob, and I started to pace.

        Three days from port.  Even at my strongest, swimming in the ocean for more than half a day would have been a struggle.  Three days in my current condition would be fatal.  My only recourse would be to get to the long boat and somehow sneak away without anyone noticing.  With a guard on my door and the crew worked into a frenzy to kill me that sounded as fatal as an ocean swim.  With every step of my pacing, the glow around me faded.  The grip I had on whatever had allowed me to listen through the decks faded with it, and I was left feeling empty.

        Without the aid of magic, I could just make out voices as they moved from the deck above to the crew quarters at the end of the corridor.  A large group of the men that had been between me and the long boat had just gone to their rest for the night.

        My ear flush with the wood of the door again, I strained to listen to the sounds above as I had minutes before.  The guard still shifted his weight on the other side of the door, but no other sounds reached me.  Whether this was the result of the deck emptying or the thick door preventing me from hearing, I had no way of knowing.

        Slow enough to avoid notice, I lifted the latch on the door.  When I pushed against it, it wouldn’t move; the bolt on the other side of the door was still in place.  The guard held the key to my freedom, but I doubted he would let me stroll out of here to do as I wished.  With a soft click I placed the latch back and looked around the room for something I could use.  The flame guttered in the wax of the candle at that moment, and my eyes found the metal candlestick.

        Tiptoeing across the room again, I stooped to pick up the candlestick.  It was lighter than I expected, but it was all I had to hand, so it would have to do.  The whole thing measured as long as my forearm with a wide, circular base.  The thick, blunt edge was about as wide as my thumb.

I stood in the darkness, wondering what to do next.  In order to leave, I would need to get the guard’s attention and have him open the door.  In doing so, he would likely alert someone else in the process, and my chance of sneaking out would be gone.  

The sound of the latch lifting brought me around to face the door.  I sprinted silently across the room, to the space next to the doorframe.  With the room in darkness, there would be little chance of someone seeing me when they crossed the threshold.  Just in time, I flattened myself against the wall.  The door swung open with a creak and a large man poked his head in.

        “I thought we could have some time alone,” a deep voice rumbled.

The rest of his body followed his head, and he shut the door behind him.  In the gloom, his shape was barely visible as he stalked across the small space in a crouch.  Before he made it three paces, I lunged.

        He turned as I swept the candlestick down, aiming for his head.  His movement brought his temple into the direct path of my weapon; the edge of the candlestick cracked against his skull.  He fell with a grunt, sprawling in an awkward position on his side.  Wary, I swung the candlestick again with another sickening crack, and then rifled through his pockets.

        A club stuck through his belt, so I discarded my candlestick in favor of the heavy piece of shaped wood.  A thick leather strap wrapped the handle of the club, which ran longer than the candlestick and had markedly more heft to it.  With my wasted arm muscles, I might only be able to swing it reliably once or twice before I wouldn’t be able to lift it again, so those swings would need to count.

        He had no other weapons on him, so I unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops of his pants.  Once free, I rolled his large frame over onto his stomach with gargantuan effort and pulled his hands behind his back.  Wrapping the belt around and between his wrists, I made sure he wouldn’t be able to free himself quickly and come after me.  Now armed, I marched to the door.

        With my head inched beyond the doorframe, the corridor became visible.  No one was in sight, and I could hear nothing beyond the creaking of wood and the snap of the sails in the night wind.

        In wary silence I stepped into the hall, pausing to close the door in my wake and slide the bolt home.  Now alone in the hall, I began the torturous and slow journey to the hatch and the deck above.

The hall sat in silent witness to my movements, and nothing hindered me.  With the club tucked under my arm I climbed up a few rungs of the ladder until the top of my head broke the surface of the ship.  No movement drew my eye, and I dared not wait long in case someone emerged from the crew cabin to find me escaping.  I pulled myself up the last few rungs and into the night air.

        A crescent moon reflected little light off of the black water, and lanterns hung dormant and dark all around.  A small sound startled me, and I jumped back, drawing the club from under my arm to hold it out against the possible threat.

        An unsecured line flapped against the rail in the ocean breeze in front of me, unconcerned about the weapon I wielded.  My heart hammered in my chest, my breathing came in rapid pulls.  Where I gripped the club my knuckles stood out white in the darkness.  My nerves and fear stood on high alert, spiraling out of control.  I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the familiar scent of the sea air to steady myself.

My heart rate slowed and the fear faded as I stood alone on the deck.  The boat creaked, swaying in the wind on the starboard side, and I rushed toward it.

        The rope scraped my hands as I worked the lines to lower it to the water.  Back and forth I rushed in the dark, keeping the boat even in its descent.  Every creak of the line or thump of the boat against the side of the ship caught my breath and heightened my fear of being found, pushing me to move faster.

One end of the boat hit the water with a distant splash.  The rope at the other side pulled against the fading calluses on my hand, but a voice froze me in place before I could finish the task.

        “Very clever, breaking free of my magic.  Very clever.”  My hand still on the rope, I peered over my shoulder to where Mort stood, a few paces from the hatch opening.  His hands hung from his sides at different lengths, his lank hair floated away from his face in the breeze.  His face, contorted and misshapen already, transformed into something foul with the mock grin he wore.

        With renewed haste I lowered the boat the rest of the way to the water.  It crashed to the ocean’s surface and bobbed in blissful serenity against the waves.

        “If you think you will escape, you are mistaken,” Mort continued.  His voice croaked above the sound of the wind in my ears.  I ignored him and lunged for the rail, trying to heave myself overboard before he could act.

        His words rang true when I stopped in mid leap.  My body sat suspended above the water.  When I tried to move, my limbs didn’t respond; my head whipped around but I had no control of any other part of me.  My hair hung down in a greasy curtain over my face so I shook my head back; flinging the mess behind me to see the twisted man controlling my body.

        “Let me go, you monster,” I hissed.

        “Monster?” he replied.  “I suppose if I were in your place I might feel the same.  But I don’t think I would be stupid enough to think I could escape, either.”

        “What do you mean?” I demanded.

        “I knew the instant my hold on you ceased,” he chuckled.  “How could I not?  And you were days away from leaving us; now, I’ll need to kill you since I can’t control you.”  His humor faded and he shook his head, regretful.  “I could have learned so much from you.”

        With a flick of his wrist, Mort brought me back to the deck at his feet with a painful crash.  A cry escaped my lips, and Mort chuckled again.

        “I would have made this painless, but for your attempt to kill me,” he sighed.  His hand sought the place on his chest where hours ago a burn had eaten through his shirt and almost through his chest.  “Don’t worry,” he said, seeing my eyes following his hand.  “The burn is gone.  But you were close.”

        Mort wrenched his hands, as if wringing out a wet cloth, and my insides twisted with them.  Writhing in anguish, all I could do against it was scream.  The sound rent the air, shattering the peaceful silence.

        Shouting erupted from below, and Bryn appeared from the hatch, his face twisted in anger.

        “What are you doing!” he raged.  He grasped Mort’s arm and pulled it down.  The movement released me from my torment; my body curled up in a futile attempt to protect myself from further torture, and I sobbed uncontrollably with my head sheltered in my arms.

        “My control of her has failed, and it’s time for her to die,” Mort intoned.  I peeked out from behind my arms, shaken again by the dead tone of Mort’s voice.  He looked lost in his intent to kill me in the most painful way imagined, and I began to pull myself, trembling, toward the longboat.

        Bryn pulled him to the side, forcing him to break his eye contact with me.  “So kill her, but stop this.  This is too much!”

        With Mort distracted, I continued to drag myself away from the argument.  In the back of my mind I knew it was hopeless, and that one of them could see me at any moment, but it was all I could do to escape.

        “You do not dictate her fate to me, boy,” Mort hissed.  “She is my responsibility, and I will dispose of her as I see fit!”

        “Your responsibility is crawling away,” Roglin stated with cold malice.  His boot thumped to a stop next to my outstretched hand.  He nudged it, and I recoiled.  “You might want to see to that.”

        “Sir, I need to protest this treatment of the prisoner,” Bryn insisted.  I rolled onto my back, and our eyes locked for a brief moment.  His eyes held fleeting sympathy that disappeared the moment he looked back at his uncle.  “If the time has come to kill her, so be it, but he needs to end it, not play with her.”  He gestured to Mort, who stood still, staring at me.

“As much as I despise the sentimentality that this springs from, I have to agree,” he replied.  “Mort….  Mort!”  He shouted to gain the man’s attention, which Mort reluctantly transferred from me to the captain.

Men streamed up and piled around the spectacle of the four of us, leering down at me and watching with avid expressions as the captain decried my fate.

        “Kill her, Mort, and don’t take your time with it.  I would like to get some rest tonight.”

Mort nodded, but when he turned his gaze back to me, I could see that he had no intention of ending it quickly.  My eyes sought Bryn’s again, and I implored him silently to help me.  He only stared, causing my panic to rise in anticipation of my gruesome death.

        As the first wave of pain hit, I screamed again and began to thrash about in an attempt to move away from the pain.  When the pain intensified, I tried to throw myself backwards, only to land at the feet of one of the crew.  Sharp kicks peppered my back, adding to the torment.  One man kicked me hard enough to send me back into the space I had just vacated.

“Help me!” I screeched.  My eyes locked onto Bryn’s again.  My body began to glow with an intensity that forced the spectators to squint.  Mort and Bryn alone left their eyes open wide to the glare.  A tendril of the light that surrounded me reached out to Bryn, lancing through his middle.  His back arched, and his head fell back when my light pierced him.  The moment went on for eternity, but lasted only seconds to those around us.  The tendril severed, and some of the light stayed with Bryn, outlining him for the briefest of moments before disappearing.

        Another wave of pain wracked my body, and two screams echoed over the water.  Men turned to Bryn where he crouched, obviously in agony.

        “Mort, I said to end it!”  Roglin pushed through the men nearest Mort, shouting above our cries.  “Mort!”

        The pain ceased, and I unfolded.  As I lay there panting, I turned my head to see Bryn straightening.  He looked to Mort, and then back at me as if wondering whether the man was punishing him for speaking out.  The captain reached the hunched man and grabbed him roughly to gain his attention.

        An argument broke out between the two of them, and the men became restless.  One of them pulled a knife, and reached out to slice a small line in my leg.  I whimpered and pulled away, unable to do more to protect myself.  Bryn cried out, more in anger than pain, and blood soaked through his pant leg in the exact place that blood flowed from my wound.

        “Enough!” Roglin roared.  Mort stumbled back when Roglin shoved him.  “This has gone on long enough!  Back away from her,” he commanded, pointing at another man that reached out to poke the tip of his sword into my arm.  The jab produced another bleeding wound; Bryn looked down at his arm with a horrified expression, watching blood soak the sleeve of his shirt.

        Roglin pulled his sword, the metal ringing as it slid out of its scabbard.

“If you won’t follow orders, I’ll turn to you when I’m done with her.”  He glared at Mort, challenging him to disobey in the face of such an overt threat.

Mort glared right back, not willing to back down.  When Roglin took a step in his direction, he backed away and held his hands up in defeat.  Roglin nodded, and turned to the middle of the deck.  The crew backed away, giving their captain more space to advance on my prone form.

Fury lit Roglin’s eyes, and he crossed the short distance with a few angry strides.  I scooted away, but he grasped the hair at the back of my head to stop me in my tracks.  His knees popped when he crouched at my side and drew his sword to place it at my throat, cool against the heat of my desperation.  I reached up to grasp his wrist, and he yanked my head back with savage force, a reluctant cry escaping my throat.  From the corner of my eye I saw Bryn’s hand fly to the back of his head to comfort the pain, and then he began to push through the men around him.  My attention drew back to Roglin as he pressed the sharp point of the sword into my flesh.  The stinging nick dribbled blood down my neck and to the hem of my ragged dress.

        “You brought this on yourself,” Roglin whispered.

He increased the pressure with the sword; the stinging sensation changed to outright pain and my blood began to flow freely.  In another moment, my throat would be severed completely.

        I gave myself over to rising panic.  My body began to glow with brilliant light again, and Roglin paused even as I lashed out at him.  My ears popped with sudden, massive pressure, and a solid curtain of air slammed into Roglin’s chest.  He hurtled through the air, tumbling end over end before crashing down beyond the wall of his crew.  Every man assembled turned to watch their captain’s flight.

        Bryn called out, and I turned to see him clutching a bloody wound at his neck, still trying to shove his way past the crew.  They paid him no notice, presenting him with a solid wall of bodies to struggle through.  Before he could make it past the final line of people, pain ripped through us and he fell with a scream that matched my own.

        “Now I have you!” Mort cried.  Bryn and I stared at one another, both of our faces locked in grimaces of intense agony.

The pain intensified, and a small part of my mind wondered how my body was still intact.  It felt like every muscle in my body was being torn apart, every bit of me squeezed as if in a giant vice tightened to its maximum.  When my muscles went slack the pain remained, and I felt my life draining away.  My body flopped with the force of Mort’s magic; my mind now detached from the body, I realized I must look like a fish flopping out of water to everyone around me.

        I let go, releasing myself from the pain that still ripped through my useless body and retreating deep within.  My vision began to fade to darkness, and I welcomed it.

        As I felt myself drifting, my life all but gone, the glow around me pulsed, pushing the darkness away and bringing welcome relief to the pain.  It pulsed again, and a shockwave of air pulsed with it, bringing everyone nearby to their knees.  Mort fell over, and the pain stopped altogether.  Still on the brink of death I lashed out again in desperation, and the ship shuddered, creaking against the violence.

        Creaks turned to snaps as the planks all around tore free and flew into the night sky.  My screaming had stopped, but the screams of the crew replaced it.  Men lay with shards of the ship jutting from their chests, abdomens, and limbs.  Another burst of naked force radiated out from me, and the ship fell apart completely.  A series of deafening cracks followed, and the mainmast crashed into the rail feet from where I lay.  The weight of the beam tore through the side of the ship, pulling large pieces of the starboard side with it.  Lines and sails tangled around men, pulling them to a watery grave.  Something heavy crashed to the deck nearby, and the portion of the deck holding me gave way.  Air rushed around me as I fell with the rest of the men into the cold ocean water.

        The small section of the deck I lay on remained, and my head cracked against it when I hit the water.  Salt water poured into my nose and mouth as I plunged below the surface, burning my raw throat.  My limbs flailed for a brief moment, trying to orient myself in the churning water.  The makeshift raft surfaced the next moment, and I sputtered and coughed.  I rolled onto my side to let the water fall out on its own.

When I could breathe again, I opened my eyes.  Pieces of the shattered ship bobbed in the water surrounding me.  The aft section of the ship teetered above me; the remaining mast still stood with lines draped down, pulling it first one way and then another as pieces of sail descended below the surface.  Men screamed in the night as they bled and drowned with no one to help them.  Above the cries of pain and fear I thought I heard someone call me by name, but another moment passed and the voice didn’t come again.

        I rolled onto the flat of my back, staring up at the stars and the moon, listening to men wailing in the water all around me.  Well past the last vestiges of strength I possessed, I lay still and let the water rock me into a trance.  A faint glow still outlined my body to add to the glow of the moon and stars.

        A loud groan issued from the aft portion of the ship, and it began to tip.  The mast leaned out over the ocean where I floated, blocking out the moon and stars.  A shout echoed from somewhere nearby, but over the sound of the water rushing to claim the rest of its prize, I couldn’t hear the words.  Abandoning my raft, I rolled over into the freezing water and forced my weak arms and legs to propel me deeper and hopefully out of the path of the falling beams.  The water pulled me toward the sinking mass, my furious struggle like that of a gnat against a swatting hand.

        My body tumbled over and over; up became down and then up again as I lost track of the surface.  My lungs burned in need of air and my arms and legs screamed with the effort of moving myself in any direction.

        The salt water burned my eyes as they cast about in search of something to show me the way to the surface.  The bulk of the ship at last fell to the depths, and the water stopped churning all around.  Seeing the ship falling below my feet, I now knew the way to the surface, and I swam as hard as I could toward it.  The moon at last became a dim light far above my head, and I fought even harder as the lack of air caused black spots to dance in front of my eyes.

        My glow brightened again, trying to lend me the strength to survive.  I fought beyond the loss of my vision, but the struggle ended when I could hold my breath no longer and I gulped in water.

        My arms and legs stopped moving, and I floated just beneath the surface, unable to pull myself up the remaining distance.

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