The good news was that Sigurd had, in fact, spotted land. The bad news? The surviving pirates chased them all night long, even after Vel took the liberty of sinking one of their two lifeboats with fire, cramming more rowers into one. That had been a mistake.

  [Fireball Level 54]

  “This isn’t working,” Vel said, watching as her little flaming ball was batted away by a wet oar. Stupid pirates. Clever pirates, she thought, their snickering irking her.

  “I still have one dagger,” Sigurd said, sweat dripping from his brow as he moved rhythmically, rowing them. He hadn’t even stopped to rest, whereas Amalia and Aden needed to trade off.

  “One dagger isn’t going to stop half a dozen cutlasses, and you’re too tired,” Amalia said.

  “So are they,” Sigurd said.

  The singer sighed, shaking her head. “They’ve been able to trade off and have three men rowing at every moment. It’s a miracle they haven’t caught up to us already.”

  Crossing her arms, Vel stared at the pirates. Opening her magic skills, she scanned them.

  [Skills]

  [Create Silk Rank 2 Level 28]

  [Fireball Rank 1 Level 54]

  [Rock Throw Rank 1 Level 40]

  [Sever Link Rank 1 Level 13]

  [Shadow Sneak Rank 1 Level 22]

  [Sticky Thread Rank 1 Level 52]

  [Water Beam Rank 1 Level 1]

  [Webshot Rank 1 Level 53]

  Could [water beam] help propel us further away? she thought, brow creasing. Maybe, but perhaps that would be better to try after . . . I need to render them unable to reach us, just enough for us to get to land first, she thought, a smile slowly coming to her face.

  “What is it?” Sigurd breathed out, and for once, he stopped rowing. It wasn’t for long, despite the look of exhaustion across his face.

  “Can you keep the boat from tipping if I stand?” Vel asked. “Actually, I might need help. I think I can steal some of their oars with [webshot], but I might not have the strength to do it.”

  “Huh,” Sigurd nodded, pulling his oars out and laying them down. He turned, looking back at the pirates. “How flammable are your webs?”

  “Very.”

  “I have a better idea,” Sigurd said. “Is it hard to cut through a web?”

  “If it’s thick and sticky enough, yeah. [Create silk] is rank two now, maybe that’ll help with thickness?”

  “Worth a shot. Shoot a for their boat, then light it on fire,” Sigurd said.

  “I’ll drop in the water,” Amalia noted.

  “Not if she shoots for the end of it closest to their ship first. Might be enough time.”

  Vel nodded, then with Sigurd’s help, slowly got herself on her aching legs. Holding up a hand, the pirate at the front of the enemy boat raised his wet oar. Raising a hand, she aimed for the prow.

  “Velmira,” Sigurd said, and she paused, looking at his tired hazel eyes. “Can you shoot two?”

  “Yes,” she said, and raised a second hand. That made the pirate at the front of the boat pale slightly. He elbowed the guy next to him, and the moment he looked away, Vel shot her webs, watching them spiral through the air in thick sticky masses until both of them hit the dry lip of the crammed vessel.

  [Create Silk level 29]

  [Create Silk level 30]

  [Sticky Thread level 53]

  [Sticky Thread level 54]

  [Sticky Thread level 55]

  [Sticky Thread level 56]

  [Webshot level 54]

  [Webshot level 55]

  [Webshot level 56]

  She handed the taut threads to Sigurd just as the first pirate turned around.

  “Hey!” he yelled, alarmed. As he pulled his cutlass, Vel shot her first [fireball]. Then a second one, both hitting the threads.

  The men on the little boat yelled, looking far more lively than before as the thread burned quickly, the fire spreading past the first pirate’s cutlass. Which, much to Vel’s satisfaction, got caught in the stickiness before slipping seamlessly into the water when the flames at the thread.

  Sigurd tossed the threads aside, shaking his hands in the water to get it to unstick. “Now start taking oars,” he said.

  “They’re already on fire, why would they━” Amalia started.

  The little boat flipped over, all six pirates going with it.

  “Oh, I see,” she finished.

  “Hm . . . going to need oil to be free of these things,” Sigurd held his wet hands up, the threads still attached. At the very least, he drew his dagger and sawed them off. “Good to know the water isn’t too much of a deterrent to its effect.”

  “Yeah,” Vel said, quiet. She was focusing. Just focusing. It wasn’t like she’s been forced to expend her energy by making silk for days, then fight pirates, and stay up all. Night. Long.

  The moment the first oar popped up, she didn’t hesitate, webs flying from her fingertips. This time, she only made the end opposite to her sticky so she could hand threads off to Sigurd.

  [Create Silk level 31]

  [Sticky Thread level 56]

  [Webshot level 57]

  [Webshot level 58]

  After handing the first thread off to the hunter, Vel shot for a second oar, having to yank at it herself to pull it out of reach of a pirate.

  [Create Silk level 32]

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  [Sticky Thread level 57]

  [Sticky Thread level 58]

  [Sticky Thread level 59]

  [Webshot level 59]

  “Hide your oars!” one of them shouted.

  After getting the second oar safely away, Vel handed it off to Amalia just so she could shoot for a third oar that was floating away. The first pirate dived for it, his hand grasping it just as Vel’s thread touched it.

  [Create Silk level 33]

  [Sticky Thread level 60]

  [Webshot level 60]

  [Webshot level 61]

  He yanked, Vel jerking forward and straight into Sigurd with a yelp, the thread slipping from her hand. She clutched him tightly as the boat rocked, too unsteady for her to stand back up. The hunter, on the other hand, flexed, muscle hard as stone as he yanked on the thread, having managed to catch it when she fell.

  While he wrestled with the pirate, the boat’s swaying rocking Vel’s stomach, she lifted a hand. Placing one on his shoulder for support, she fired.

  [Fireball level 55]

  With narrow eyes, she watched as the pirate gasped and ducked beneath the ocean’s surface. Yet he still didn’t let go of the oar.

  “Row, kid, row!” Sigurd called.

  “Don’t yell at me!” the blond retorted, but rowed, and as he did, they dragged the pirate further away from his friends.

  “You . . . are so smart sometimes,” Vel grumbled.

  Sigurd gave an amused snort, then shoved her to the floor of the boat. “I would have liked to take the oar. That’d leave them with only three, but at least this slows them down, maybe just enough. Of course, he still hasn’t let go . . .” The hunter yanked on the thread, and the pirate shifted in the water, looking as if he was trying to kick away. Instead, he coughed, the sound barely audible. Yanking again, the oar was freed, and Sigurd grinned, dragging it over.

  As he pulled it into their boat, Vel released an exasperated sigh, the air shooting from her lungs as she fell back. Oh, how tempting it was to nap.

  “Your aim has improved. A lot,” Sigurd said.

  “Was that a compliment I just heard?” Vel asked, itching an ear.

  “I give compliments.”

  “Oh really?” Amalia asked, taking a set of oars to row.

  “Yeah, someone has to stroke the ego Vel doesn’t have,” Sigurd joked, Vel cracking a smile.

  “So you only compliment me?” she asked, staring up at the bright blue sky.

  “Yep,” Sigurd said.

  “You’re such an arse,” Amalia noted.

  “Oooo,” Aden added, sounding interested in the budding fight. “She just called you an arsehole.”

  “I did not! He’s so full of crap that there couldn’t possibly be a hole!”

  “Call me whatever makes you happy, Pipsqueak, I just might not bother to respond.”

  “Pip! Squeak!” Amalia gasped.

  “See? You pip, and you squeak.”

  The singer scoffed. “I swear I’ll . . .” she hummed, then growled. Apparently, Vel thought, ex-priestesses didn’t have much of a background in insults.

  Well, there is an actual skill for them, Vel thought, giggling.

  “Go to sleep already,” Sigurd looked at her, and Vel shifted, pushing herself up a bit.

  “And miss this?”

  “Yes,” the hunter pointed. “You’ve expended too much magic. I can see it when you move; you’re lethargic.”

  Vel huffed. Sleep and miss out on all the fun, she thought, laying back. Although, sleep did sound enticing, enough that the moment she closed her eyes, she felt the waves slowly lull her into a dreamless slumber.

  A disturbance in the rhythmic movement jolted Vel awake, her eyes shooting open with the expectation that they’d been caught again. She reached for a dagger that was no longer on her belt, only pausing when she saw Sigurd tying the boat to a dock.

  A dock.

  A sweet, merciful dock.

  Sigurd held a palm towards her. “Don’t sit up,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “There are priests roaming the docks.”

  “Seems like they’re everywhere,” Amalia huffed.

  “What’s the big deal?” Aden asked.

  “Why haven’t you ran off yet, kid?” Sigurd narrowed his eyes at the teenager.

  “Because you guys need to be healed a lot. Who better to be with to become the world’s greatest healer?” Aden grinned, crossing his arms as he turned to look across the pier. “So, why is she hiding from the church?”

  Sigurd rolled his eyes, and crouched. “Vel, do you have the energy to make coverings for your hair and face, or do we need to find something?”

  Velmira nodded slowly, raising her hands. Lying down was an awkward angle to make silks from, but with her improved skill, she wasn’t so worried about making the square fabrics━two of them. One for the hair, and one for her face.

  [Create silk level 34]

  [Create silk level 35]

  [Create silk level 36]

  The one for her hair was much larger than the one for her face. She moved to sit up at least a little, stopping only when Sigurd waved a hand at her. He looked down the dock.

  “Someone’s coming,” he said. “Amalia, help Vel, just hide at least her hair.” The hunter walked past their little boat, moving out of sight.

  “Who is it?” she croaked, finding her throat painfully dry.

  “You don’t want to know,” Amalia said, and carefully lifted Vel up to just barely lean her against her knees. The singer took Vel’s comb out, and took a moment to brush through the tangled locks. “I can’t believe how well this comb managed to stay in.”

  “I hope I never lose it,” Vel said, her heart aching at losing the precious gift. Gift . . . She reached a hand up, fishing the sapphire jewel out from beneath her clothes, a sigh of relief washing over her as she found it still attached to her neck.

  “What’s that necklace?” Amalia asked, twisting Vel’s hair up.

  “Also a gift. It’s from Edard,” she answered, and tucked it away. “He gave it to me the last day I saw him.”

  “It’s very pretty.”

  “Thank you.”

  The singer took the bigger silk shawl, pausing for a brief second to run her fingers across it. “It’s amazing that you can make these,” she said, and began to wrap it around Vel’s hair. She even dipped her hands in the water, using them to smooth out and trap the hair beneath the silk. “I wish I had pins to attach the second shawl . . .”

  As Amalia lifted it, Vel grabbed it. “I can,” she said, and along the edges, she attached sticky threads.

  [Sticky Thread level 61]

  Then she handed it back to Amalia. “It should stick to the other one now.”

  With a nod, the singer situated the second shawl to dangle over the lower half of Vel’s face. “Your skill set impresses me more and more,” she said.

  Sitting up, Vel turned, looking at the haggard singer. None of them in the group looked good. Even the back of Sigurd’s head was a mess, and . . .

  Vel froze, eyes growing big.

  She may have not seen him often, but the hefty jewel upon his chest was distinct with a large silvery shard encased in gold. The high priest. Her tight muscles tensed, and she grappled at the lip of the boat with both hands on either side of her.

  “You’re right,” she rasped out, “I didn’t want to know.”

  “Yeah . . .” Amalia said.

  “Won’t he recognize you?”

  “Maybe. I was new to the temple, then almost immediately left to find you. We only had one encounter,” she said.

  Vel nodded, her muscles somehow growing stiffer as the high priest and his entourage of three church members passed Sigurd, moving down the docks towards them. If he recognizes me . . . or Amalia . . . she thought, putting together a haphazard plan that probably involved too much fire. If the high priest found her, then she’d have to fight━fight in a stiff and sorry state.

  The four of them stopped near Aden, the boy’s arms crossed. Sigurd moved to stand beside him, hands curled into fists. “Like I said,” the hunter began, “it’s just the four of us, shipwrecked.”

  “And no papers?” the high priest asked, his blue eyes scanning over Vel, then Amalia, narrowing.

  “No, no papers, Holiness. They were lost in the rest of our things with the ship. Please, we’ve not had food for days,” Sigurd said, his voice sounding nearly fake, or rather . . . placating. He was doing his best to placate the church and turn them away.

  “Have I seen you before?” the high priest asked, staring at Amalia.

  She shook her head. “Only been in a church once,” she said.

  “Excuse me?” the high priest asked, taking a step towards the boat to loom over Amalia.

  “Respect, Menia,” Sigurd scolded, looking at the singer. As Amalia opened her mouth, he interjected, “My apologies, your holiness. The journey here has made our minds foggy, and she’s with child.”

  How thick are we going to lay these lies? Vel wondered.

  “No worries, I understand,” the high priest said, taking a step back. “We’ll let you go to take care of yourselves as soon as we see her face,” he pointed at Vel.

  She flinched, her eyes darting to Sigurd. His weight shifted as he moved to intercept, but then Aden stepped in front of the priest.

  “High priest, sir, she can’t,” the teenager said. “My sister, you see, can’t reveal her finer features to anyone but her husband, and oh boy, islander husbands . . .”

  “Ah . . .” the high priest recoiled a bit, grimacing at the teenager. He looked between Aden and Vel, and each time his eyes lingered on her, she leaned further and further away. “I certainly would not want to interfere with islander culture. Well, be on your way then,” he said, turning away.

  “Thank you, Holiness,” Sigurd said, watching the group leave. Once they were out of earshot, he turned to Aden. “Sister?” he asked, “You’re ten shades darker than her.”

  “It worked, didn’t it?” Aden said.

  “Yeah, and pregnant?” Amalia climbed from the boat. “Pregnant?” she repeated.

  “It . . . worked, didn’t it?” he repeated the teenager, then moved to assist Vel by offering her a hand. Once she was out of the boat and finally on solid ground, she followed Sigurd’s gaze back to the high priest, who conspicuously glanced over his shoulder at them. “I think we’re going to have more problems with them.”

  “Especially if he manages to remember me,” Amalia said.

  “Then we can’t stay on this island long,” Sigurd said, turning his head to look down the pier. “Back to stealing a ship?”

  “In our condition?” Amalia huffed. “No. And look at her,” she motioned to Vel.

  “What?” Vel croaked.

  “Exactly, she can barely talk. Food, water, and rest. No more magic for you,” Amalia pointed. “You need a day without it.”

  “And what about him?” Sigurd pointed a thumb at Aden.

  “What about me?” Aden asked.

  “We don’t need to have a kid following us around, that’s what,” Sigurd said.

  “Look, losers, I’m not about to just abandon the person that gets perpetually injured,” Aden pointed at Vel.

  “He did help,” Vel said.

  “We take him with us,” Amalia agreed.

  Sigurd’s eyebrow twitched. He shot a glare at the blond. “Don’t you have a home or something to go back to?” he asked.

  “Nope! I’m family and home free,” Aden grinned, then started down the dock in a triumphant walk.

  “I’m getting rid of him the moment he’s trouble,” Sigurd said.

  “Sure,” Amalia patted his shoulder, Sigurd frowning at her.

  I wonder if they know how cute they look together, Vel blinked at her own thought, a smile creeping onto her face. She followed after them.

  “What now?” Aden asked.

  “Someplace to sleep, that’s what,” Sigurd answered.