11 The Estrela do Norte #2
He understood this, logically. But his vision still went white with fury. Hawk must think him to be an idiot - albeit, he hoped, a very pretty one - but an idiot nonetheless, to be ordering him below deck.
Sil-ver-fin... Sil-ver-fin...
“Fuck off!” Silverfin dropped to his heels, burying his head between his knees and placed his hands over his ears again. In vain, he knew; it wasn’t with his ears that he was hearing his brethren.
Then, another voice reached him, and this one made his blood run cold.
Can’t wait to eat your captain, Silverfin!
Sharks.
Immediately, Silverfin's mind was back in the water after the Hecate, trying to save Hank from drowning.
Trying to get them both back on board before the sharks caught up to them.
Hauling on the rope - fast, faster - leaping from the water, but not fast enough.
Pain seared through him from the shark's teeth, radiating from his missing leg.
Silverfin clutched the rail, breathing hard.
No. No, he wouldn't let this happen to Hawk.
"The Captain of the Tempest is tastier!" he hollered back at them. He should have known the merfolk would have brought their army of shark goons on this hunt! Those slippery, bloodthirsty assholes!
And then we'll eat your other leg!
Ah-ha-ha! AH-HA-HA! AH-HA-HA!
“Dicks!”
Around him, the crew of the Orca rushed to drop sail in the storm, battered by the howling wind and sheets of torrential rain.
The ship pitched violently on the waves, sending men sprawling, and only Silverfin's quick grab at the rail of the poopdeck kept him from sliding across the slippery boards.
Below him, the man at the helm went flying, the wheel spinning wildly.
"Captain! We're gonna run aground!" Ruiz hollered. Through the rain, Silverfin could make out Hank’s towering form barreling across the deck towards the abandoned helm.
Hawk started for it at the same time, fierce and fearsome despite the wind and rain. But all his beautiful ferocity was no match for the storm. Silverfin watched, horrified, as the ship pitched, a mighty wave crashing down onto the main deck.
The water cleared. Hawk was gone.
"Gods fucking dammit!" Silverfin scrambled to cross the deck on the careening ship. Treasure be damned - those bloodthirsty Mers and their asshole sharks were not getting their hands on his Pirate King!
There was no sign of Hawk in the swirling waters, but that wasn't a concern; the water was his home.
Even with half a leg missing he'd be damned if he'd let his own kind outswim him.
Unbuckling the heavy boot of his fake leg, he hauled himself over the rail and dove off the side of the ship and down into the swirling water.
The turbulent sea was cold, but that cold was familiar.
Invigorating. Silverfin's gills opened eagerly, taking in the saltwater like a biped dying of thirst. But there was no time to enjoy it.
Eyes adjusting quickly to the rippling depths, Silverfin scanned the water quickly.
Why the fuck did pirates wear such dark clothes? !
Already the water was filled with debris blown from the ship and blown off by the cannonballs. There - a flash of a familiar form. Silverfin dove through the water, cursing his nearly useless biped appendages.
Sil-ver-fin... bring your strange little legs to us....
A silvery shape twisted in the water beyond Hawk. No - more than one. Sharks, coming closer. Silverfin grabbed hold of Hawk's form and kicked desperately towards the surface, looking back towards the ship.
The water roiled with more than just flotsam and jetsam. More sharks, and so many of his kind circled the looming hulls of the Orca and the Estrela. There was no way he'd get Hawk back on deck in the storm. And before long, there might not even be a deck to be on.
Land, then. It wasn't far. And the only hope of getting out of this. The ship was good as lost. The Estrela was surely lost.
Sil-ver-fin... leave that tasty morsel for us....
"No!" He shouted back, pulling power from the depths of his soul as he swam. Pulling from all his rage and frustration and helplessness and pain. "No! I am a Prince of the Sea, and you will obey me! Hawk is mine! The Orca is mine! Leave!"
He wouldn't lose Hawk. He couldn't lose Hawk.
Hawk awoke to the hot glare of the sun, his head pounding. He spat out the grit in his mouth, blinking against the brightness of the light. The cool froth of a wave washed up his body. He forced himself to sit up in the surf.
The sky was clear and bright before him, the ocean clean. Calm. The sun was high in the sky. The storm that had ravaged his ship was gone without a trace, as if it had been summoned and then dispelled by forces beyond the laws of nature.
Without a trace, apart from the battered skeleton of the Orca, caught on the rocks near the beach, sagging sadly on her side.
His ship. How many of the crew had survived? The beach between him and the Orca was strewn with flotsam and the remains of their supplies. Dozens of men worked to pull them from the water up onto the sandy shore.
As for himself, it appeared that once again he had been ready to sacrifice his life to the ocean, and once again, the water had rejected him and spat him out as if recognizing him for the poison that he was.
It would be weeks before the Orca could be made seaworthy again - if at all.
Would the supplies last that long? The Tempest was nowhere in sight, forcing Hawk to assume the worst about Captain Pane and his crew’s fate.
That they'd lost the Estrela was a given.
Losing his ship was a far greater crime against his crew - those that survived. And Silver...
Oh God, Silver. Hawk scanned the beach wildly, eyes searching for the familiar limp of his unfortunate lover. But how could Silver have possibly survived such a wreck?
Hawk scrambled to his feet, starting down the beach, lungs burning as if the world had suddenly run out of air.
Why hadn't he made Silver stay behind, safe in Port Royal?
As much as Silver had fought the idea, Hawk had only given in because he'd wanted the beautiful young man at his side.
He'd brought Silver out into this hell, and now...
Frantically, Hawk searched the debris from the ships.
Each floating body - Pirate and Portuguese - he came across was a moment of panic, expecting the worst. The thought of finding Silver's beautiful form dead in the surf was like a knife to the chest. Or worse - what if he'd been carried out to sea and Hawk never saw him again?
It couldn't be the case. Silver had survived so much already. He couldn't be dead. He had to find him.