Chapter 3 Alaric #2
But I bled too fast. My breath came out ragged, my strength slipping like water through cracked fingers. I raised my blade one last time.
He didn’t strike again. He looked at me, nodded once like I’d earned it, then vanished into the night.
I fell to one knee, clutching my side. The scent of iron filled my lungs.
I’d been stabbed before. Cut. Beaten.
But this… this felt final.
A bell rang in the distance. Lights shone on the water.
And then Thatcher rang our bell.
A distress call.
I glanced at the lights. Corallure Kingdom. They rang out their bell, calling to us.
We were close. So, so close.
Is it safe to port there though? If they were trying to attack us, then why were they offering help?
And why were these Corallure assassins fleeing when they were so close to the port?
I looked around at my ship. My heart sank, my breaths shallow, as I saw the unmoving bodies around me. Why did the Corallure ship attack without confronting us first?
Things didn’t add up.
Except one: They sent someone to kill me.
I took off my hat, tipped my chin to the fallen, and then slowly, achingly made my way to the helm.
My men needed order. Leadership.
Every part of my body protested, but I had to move.
“Captain!” Destin yelled.
His voice was frantic, but I didn’t react quickly enough.
And that was when it happened… there was another round of cannons fired.
The last round.
Aimed right at me.
The ground exploded beneath my feet and I flew into the air.
As fire, wood, debris, smoke, and oil consumed me, I knew I’d be going to the locker this time.
My body hit the waves, my consciousness failing me.
Water filled my lungs.
I knew I needed to swim, but my body protested. It seemed I was in my body, but I could not tell it what to do.
Shock… I was in shock. Several more booming noises sounded above the surface, and planks of wood, barrels, and metal fell into the water.
The pieces brushed past me.
I had never really imagined dying, perhaps because I’d always been so invincible, so untouchable. It would take a miracle to survive this.
And now that death had come, the strangest feeling ripped out my heart: Regret.
Regret at having lived the life I dreamed of yet not enjoying it.
Regret at all the darkness in my past: teaming up with a wicked queen to kill her daughter, pretending like it didn’t bother me, pretending that my whaling empire could make up for such an almost-heinous deed…
And so much more.
I was too delirious to picture all the regret, but it was all there, piercing me like a harpoon striking a whale.
I’m gone, I thought, sinking.
Drowning.
This was the end of Alaric Galeborne, the wealthiest, most powerful whaler in all the seas. He died just like any other whaler, returning to the sea he thought he conquered.
And then something happened… something moved. It rose beneath me. Not wood. Not man.
Flesh.
Huge.
Living.
My fingers found something solid. It was skin slick with seawater, something that wasn’t slimy but warm with life. I clung to the fin, my nails scraping across barnacle-crusted bumps, and felt the powerful muscle shift beneath me as the whale moved.
I was delirious. Dying. This couldn’t be real.
Yet, it lifted me toward light, where I coughed salt and blood.
The world bobbed around me and a blowhole exhaled, misting the air.
More cannons sounded somewhere, but my ears were ringing, and I could barely make out my ship, the Crimson Wake, lighting the night sky in the distance.
My final thought was in concern for my men.
Were they alright? I hoped that they and the Crimson Wake would make it to the port before sinking.
The whale swam, and, I, half-dead, floated above the deep in the arms of a beast my harpoon had hungered for.
I was saved by the very creature I killed.
Sand.
I clutched it, dragging myself onto shore. Waves broke around me, and a light rain fell. The world was pitch black.
I gasped for air, trying to get my bearings.
Every inch of my body protested against movement, but I was alive.
Alive.
The sound of the blowhole filled the air behind me.
I looked, though knives pierced my side, at the last sight of the whale. All I saw was its tail, disappearing below the surface. It had an unusually white tail for a humpback whale, but I was hallucinating. Or was I?
I scanned the area, knowing that if I didn’t get help now, I would die here.
My blood curled in rage against the Kingdom of Corallure, no doubt whose island I was on at this very moment. And that anger fueled me to move.
I had to get help.
Had to get back to my crew.
I rose to my feet, clutching my side, each breath labored as I hobbled across the sand and into the forest.
It was then I smelled something.
Warmth. Sweetness. Coziness.
Nostalgia filled me with memories of sitting in my mother’s kitchen as a little boy.
It smelled like bananas and ginger and everything good in this world.
And that was when I saw the light. It flickered in the woods, like a lighthouse beckoning to me. It felt dreamlike. Had I died and now found myself approaching my mother?
I dragged myself to the cottage. Pounded on the door.
The feel of the hardwood against my knuckles told me this was real, not a dream.
Even despite my consciousness fleeing in and out like the tide.
“Help!” I exclaimed, knocking again, my knees giving out. I fell to the ground, still clutching my side. Blood soaked my shirt like stain clinging to wood in the sun.
Someone had to be here. The smell of baking gave it away.
Then the door opened. It was just a crack, but the sweet, comforting aroma filled the air. It was so refreshing and wonderful, it caused a stir of hope inside of me. If this were the last thing I experienced before dying, that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go out.
A chain sounded, and the door opened fully. A young woman stood there, curtains of black hair falling down either side of her face. She knelt down, her eyes wide, but her head was turned, as if she was looking away.
“You’re a whaler, aren’t you?” she asked.
I nodded, and her expression hardened. Thunder rolled above.
I tried to get up, but the wound at my side caused a ripping sensation through my body.
The world around me turned black.
I’m going to die, I thought, staring at the face of the young woman.
She’s very beautiful, came the next thought. She looked like an angel… an angel who seemed to look past me. But, honestly, if she was the last person I saw before dying, that wasn’t such a bad way to go out either.