The Mosque Hill Fortune (The Sons of Masguard, Book One)

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Within the hour, the children of Bryton, along with its surviving adult, had been ferried to the Albatross by a quiet crew. None of them quite knowing what to make of the recent revelation, they’d opted for silence over investigation. And the newly-outed sons of Masguard had, for the most part, done a successful job of avoiding one another.

Now that they were seated side by side on the final raft, however, it was difficult for each to pretend the other didn’t exist. A brief instant of accidental eye-contact and McKinley could contain himself no longer.

“Alright, that’s it. If no one else is going to say it, then I will,” he folded his arms impudently. “I don’t buy it. How can I believe that if I’d grown up in the same household as Captain Maggot that I’d be some salt-of-the-earth, nose-in-the-sky noble? Does that make any sense to any of you? Honestly?”

Ryder chuckled between rows, “Something tells me you still wouldn’t have been the wholesome type. But you’re a noble, alright. No denying that one anymore.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. At least I had the good sense to reject my station, unlike stuffed-shirt, here, who practically bathed in it. With his uniform and his education and his... Wait a minute,” he pointed at Marshall, accusing and ecstatic all at the same time. “You’re rich, aren’t you? With copious amounts of family money! Ha! Half of that is mine!”

“Quiet,” Marshall held up his hand. He sat alert and rigid, staring through empty skies to his too-visible ship, seated on waters that shimmered with unusual clarity. “What happened to the mist?”

Having not noticed the sudden change in their surroundings, everyone aboard fell silent.

Ryder stopped rowing.

Even McKinley looked uneasy.

From the rear of the raft, Father Faiz lifted his head, his fur bristling as he looked to something on the horizon that only he could see. “It’s beginning in earnest now,” he whispered in a somber tone, as if to gird himself. “They’re coming.”

Marshall stared at him, wondering why the Baron’s darkly-scrawled message was forcing itself to the forefront of his mind, wondering why the stillness taunted him like an enemy with a superior weapon.

Then Ryder pointed to the sea, just beyond the bow of the Albatross. “Captain.”

It began as an odd ripple. Then a pulse from somewhere deep within the ocean. Ominous. Slow. Sounding out a warning like the beat of a war drum. The ripples swelled, becoming breakers, becoming waves. In seconds, the tide had risen to a tsunami that exceeded the waters themselves, looming over the ship. A predator poised to strike. Only then did those in the raft realize the awful truth. That the wave rising from the ocean and bearing down on their ship wasn’t a wave at all.

It was the mist.

“ROW!” Marshall shouted, hoisting an oar as everyone onboard rushed to follow suit.

As fast as they moved, they were still some distance away when the mist struck.

Violently, it slammed into the Albatross, jarring masts and pushing the ship sideways in the water. In the frightening moments before the fog bled away over the hull, it was impossible to know whether any of the crew had been thrown from the safety of the deck, into angry waters. The only certainty was that, by the time the ephemeral wave had passed, those remaining on the ship were not alone. An army stood among them, wispy and seething.

Marshall and McKinley both stood to a crouch, gripping the sides of the raft.

“Captain!” Ryder shouted, incredulous. “What are my eyes seeing?!”