Tamarie Tideclaw's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The storm hit three days later. Tamarie felt it before she saw it — a pressure in her chest that made breathing harder, like the ocean itself was holding its breath. The crew moved fast, securing lines and lowering sails, but the captain kept them on course. He wanted to cut through the Shelvari approach before the worst of it arrived. Tamarie stood at the rail and watched dark water churn beneath them, waiting for orders that didn't come. The current struck like a fist. The ship lurched sideways and Tamarie grabbed the rail as water roared past the hull. She reached for it instinctively, trying to ease the pressure the way she had in the lagoon, but the current was already inside her magic — pulling at her blood, at the dragon-touched part of her that recognized deep water as kin. The more she pushed against it, the harder it pulled back. She felt the hull groan beneath her feet. Through the spray she saw a massive rusted gate rising from the water ahead, vines tangled across its bars, marking the entrance to something older than the shipping lanes. The current was dragging them straight toward it. She tried to redirect the flow but her magic twisted in her hands, turning the water against the planks instead of away from them. Wood began to splinter near the bow. The captain's voice cut through the wind. "Let it go, Tideclaw!" She looked up and saw him at the wheel, fighting to turn the ship. The young rigger was staring at her, his face pale. She could feel the hull starting to crack where her magic pressed hardest. If she kept fighting, she'd tear the ship apart herself. She pulled her hands back and the current immediately slammed them sideways, past the gate and into a wide basin where submerged tree stumps rose like broken teeth. The ship spun hard, caught in a whirlpool of murky water and foam. But the hull held. Tamarie gripped the rail and watched the water churn, her magic still singing in her veins, useless and hungry. Ahead, a brick lighthouse stood at the edge of the basin, its wide base planted against the swamp. They were alive, but only because she'd stopped trying to help. When the current finally released them into calmer water, the crew worked in silence. Tamarie stayed at the rail, her hands shaking. The rigger approached her once, hesitated, then walked away without speaking. She'd proven something today, but not what she'd intended. The water here was stronger than her control, and fighting it had nearly destroyed them. She thought of the deep channels north of the Shelvari shelf, where the dragon-kin lived in currents that made this one look gentle. If she couldn't hold her magic steady when it mattered most, those waters would kill her. The captain never looked her way. The shark-kin didn't mock her, but they didn't meet her eyes either. She had their attention now — but for the first time since boarding, she wondered if respect was something she could earn, or something the water would have to grant her first.