Page 9 of Vasmora

The man let out a whimper and hobbled across the deck, making his way up the staircase. The ship heeled sharply, knocking him into the wall on his way up, and he let out a pained cry.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” Torryn said beside Dolion.

The mage chuckled, settling down on his mat. “Let’s get some rest while we can.”

“Not sure I can rest after that. All that vivicantem’s got my muscles bunched. Would really love to punch something right now.”

“Perhaps aim for one of those canons, if you must.”

“You’re funny.” Torryn rubbed his hands together, clearly antsy and still spoiling for violence.

Dolion couldn’t deny, the events had left him a bit unsettled, too, but he closed his eyes for what couldn’t have been more than a minute. When he opened them, a boy, perhaps thirteen years old, sat cross-legged on the floor a couple meters away, well outside of the protective boundary. He stared back through pale green eyes framed by frost rimmed lashes. Silvery-white hair fell around his face in silken strands that almost glowed in the dim lighting.

“Where’d he come from?” Dolion spoke low, gaze anchored on him.

Tattered clothes clung to the boy’s thin frame, his face gaunt.

“Lower deck. Watched him climb out of the cargo hatch just now.” Torryn had gone back to carving, his blade sticking with each stroke.

“Stowaway, you think?” Rykaia whispered, voicing the question running through Dolion’s mind.

“Guessing so.” Torryn held up his wooden horse to the light, then tucked it away. “Why anyone would bring a child aboard a ship of shady crewmen is beyond me.”

From his threadbare coat, the boy pulled a small sachet and dumped a half-dozen silver marbles onto the floor. The boat’s rocking sent the marbles sliding around, but never out of reach of the child, leading Dolion to the conclusion he may have recently ascended into his blood magic.

“I remember my mother insisting that I practice with marbles when I was young.” Rykaia yanked off her boots and massaged her feet.” She nodded toward the child. “How ‘bout you let me have one of those to relieve the ache in my arches?”

As if he hadn’t heard her, the child continued staring at Dolion, capturing the rolling marbles each time the boat rocked without so much as a glance away.

Unnerving.

“Think he might be blind?” Torryn whispered beside the mage.

“Hard to say, when he can’t seem to look away from me. His eyes look very much focused.”

The keel clashed with the sea, spilling ocean water into what must’ve been a cracked gunport, and the crew scrambled to close the hinged doors.

The boy remained still, simply rolling those marbles along the floor.

Dolion frowned, noting how each seemed to slow and come together, forming a circle. No child his age could’ve possibly mastered that much control unless he were some sort of prodigy. Maintaining their form, the marbles moved in a perfect circle–all six of them. Faster and faster, they spun, rising into the air.

Jolts of white light shot up from the floor, seeming to come from somewhere below, and connected with each silver orb, forming a white halo. The case housing the stones against Dolion’s chest shifted and burned. Hand pressed to the pain, he wheezed and grunted. His heart pounded a strange, unsteady rhythm, each beat growing more intense. “What in Nethyria …” He tumbled to the side, dizziness blurring the child’s form.

“Dolion!” Torryn shifted beside him, and Rykaia settled in next to him on the other side. “Are you all right?”

“My … heart …” Gaze snapping toward the boy, Dolion pointed. “The … boy!”

Torryn lunged toward the kid beyond the protective barrier, and took hold of his skinny wrist. His arm shook as he seemed to fight some opposing force.

The marbles clacked to the floor, scattering with the ship’s lurching. Flashes of light flickered and faded, the boy swaying where he sat.

“It burns!” Torryn cried out. “It fucking burns!” He released his hold, tumbling backward, and as he kicked himself back to the wall, Dolion could see charred skin had blackened his palm.

From whatever corners they’d rolled, the marbles shot out of the shadows and encircled the boy once again, the light brighter than before.

Crewmen huddled at the opposite side of the gundeck, keeping their distance. As before, the boy held out his palms, head tipped back.

The wooden case housing the bloodstones shot out of Dolion’s cloak as if yanked by invisible threads and hovered above them in the air. It creaked open by unseen hands, and the bloodstones floated upward, joining the spinning halo of light, turning it red.