All pirates are dirty liars and murderers, but none worse than Captain Dolion of the Nebula. His aim is as sharp as his tongue, and his neck scarf as red as the blood of his victims.
Stardust parts around the bow of the Nebula and swirls in our wake as we forge toward
Dr. Jacob Martin stood on the prow of The Cloudscuttler, leaning on the rigging and watching the thick stratocumulus clouds pass under the ship’s hull. The fog rolled away in every direction like folded sails, broken only by the occasional towering formation.
Yes. This is where he was meant to be.
“You’re looking as tempting as ever, love.”
Arianna’s pistol was out and trained on the familiar voice before her head swung around. “Where’s Dix?”
“Your first mate? Wishing he’d been paying more attention.” Elliot eased against the doorjamb, his towering frame backlit by the flickering torch.
She scowled.
Don’t think about the portal—anything except the portal.
Elwick swallowed. He gripped the ship’s wheel, desperate to keep his hands from trembling. But it wasn’t the endless ocean, its waves lapping against his ship’s hull, stretching out on all fronts that provoked his fear.
I’m not seasick—I live on this ship, so you can bet I’ve got my sea legs—but the old hag I stole the chalice from at New Providence must have been a witch. Her nasty shout as I ran made me smirk, but… I’m turning green. She must have cursed me!
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