She struggled to move the long, dense bodies of the cephelokoi away from the ship. The beasts too panicked to be herded in such a small river bed. Their lashing tentacles flailed about dangerously. Should just one wrap about their small ferry, it be over.  Siro tensed as The Waif rocked hard as more cephelokoi bashed against the bottom of the boat.    

   

 A sudden whish and clatter of metal and the boat veered wildly towards shore in the water. The crewmen had retracted the river mooring chain.

    

The sudden jerk sent Siro's shoulder first into the side rails and, unfortunately, broke Emery’s control. The calm pool of water erupted, and the cephelokoi scraped against the ship with their long branched-feelers, unhindered.

    

“They’re ripping us apart! What's up with that last chain?!” Emery and Siro called out at once. From below, more cephelokoi breached, ramming them out of the water. The remaining chain pulled tautly and jerked the ship about like a stiff fish. But it did not break.  

    

“It's jammed!” came a shout from the crank below. Two crew-mates struggled to recall the anchor. “The herd must have damaged it onshore!” the other cried, voicing the leyota’s fears.    

   

Another splash of wooden tentacles breached, massive limbs threatening to pull them down.  The riled swarm of giant tree-squid had begun to choke the river, bottle-necking themselves fleeing Astus knows what.

They would tear the ship apart without even meaning trying.  

    

Astus. The Scorned Storm. Emery would swear it on Atharri, the Plentiful Giver, that the sky god had tormented the herd for sport at Emery's expense. Cephelokoi tended to not migrate during the storm seasons, Emery recalled. They should have been asleep.  

Metallic wood flew to her waiting fingers as she recalled her staff from the river bed. She honed in on the mooring chain and its anchor point. The crewman was right. The last moor-line had been anchored somewhere in the tree line, where now several non-walking fallen trees had pinned the line to shore. Maybe even bent it.    

    

Of course, thought Emery begrudgingly.    

    

They sighed through the nose, shouting a “Stand clear!” to the pair below, as air crackled and sparked on the fingertips of her staff-hand.

    

They waited until the two crewmen were safe behind closed doors before raising the staff to the sky. 

The unwanted but rightful disciple of Astus, Emery channeled her scorned lord into calling down a bolt of her own.

Above her, small clouds churned, roiling as her power mixed with the storm-charged ethergy of the sky.  Stray bolts sparked about, striking waves and ship alike.

    

She grasped for that wild power, and sky fire blazed down, striking the top of the staff. It coursed through the vibrant metallic inlays set in the wood, up through the Leyota’s arm where it coiled inside her chest; the power growing until it burned. 

    

Focusing her sight on the mooring chain, she aimed. Electric flame coursed from her ribs back through her other hand, striking the mooring chain with a snap.