Chapter 13 Don’t Wake The Dead
The Móri are a damned race, the worst of mankind; dead who cannot die, unsuitable for this world nor the hel of Eld?heim that comes after.
The god [Ireus] cast them into the Shadowed Sea where they rot and fester beneath boggy waters, waiting to devour sailors who might wake them.
For to Móri, the taste of flesh is life, even for a short while.
–Excerpt from the forbidden 'Anatole Text', written by the Crimson Scholar
"Stay down, Nymph. Don't move. Don't speak.
" Crow's voice is barely a murmur in my ear and his strong fingers clamp over my mouth, carved muscle laid flush over mine so that I'm pinned to the deck.
While it should spark the urge to panic and thrash against him, my gut tells me to hold still.
To listen. And though I'm painfully afraid, my body is aware of every place our skin meets.
There's another echo of beating wings overhead.
More errant splashing and then a noise that sends terror through every inch of me.
A bone-chilling, guttural screech. The sound of something sharp scraps over the wooden deck.
My eyes widen; I stare up at Crow in alarm.
Dark hair falls over his forehead, his keen jaw clenches, but his face is otherwise calm, distant—sculpted in stoic shades of moonlight and shadow, like a work of art hovering a few inches above me.
It goes blurry for some reason I don't understand until I realize tears are threatening my eyes.
I'm scared. Trembling beneath him. I want to ask what's happening, what that sound is, but wouldn't dare even if it weren't for his hand cupping my mouth.
From the distance, the goat who must've managed to get free of the restrictive cord bleats loudly, sounding as panicked as I feel. I can't help but look toward the sound to glimpse a sight I'll never forget.
"Don't look at it." His words are in my ear again, soft but pressing. I want to listen to him for once. To rip my eyes off the creature stepping out of the heavy swirls of fog that will surely haunt my dreams into eternity.
"It will feel your stare, Nymph. It will sense you. Look away, look at me."
By now, my whole body is vibrating from the sheer terror of emotion rippling through me. But I look at him, stare into wondrous midnight storm clouds that gleam, cool and calculative.
Through the fog of terror, I realize he's trying to formulate a plan. That this is uncharted territory for him, something he hasn't faced. But it's cloaked under a mask of calm. A calm that settles me, slows the thumping in my chest.
Rhyland Crow, a god trapped in a man's body. Once Talon of House Sól, made of sunlight and wrath. Son of Ireus and Trine. Prince of the gods. Surely these creatures are no match for him. Pressed close to me, the scent of the sea that lingers on him is overwhelming. The sleeves of his loose black shirt are rolled to his elbows so that I catch sight of the strange runes burned into his forearms. They’re glowing again, a faint blue.
Heat brims from them, warming me despite how frigid the air has become.
The creature screeches. More flapping sounds overhead and the weight of another heavy landing makes the ship deck rattle beneath me.
“Fucking kepra,” Rhyland curses, almost imperceptibly soft. “They’ll wake the Móri who'll board to find no offering. They can't find you above deck.”
Kepra? Móri? I long to ask around his hand, but the sound of fierce snapping stunts the thought at its root. A snarl rips the air. I can’t help but glance at the creatures hovering above the goat, prepared to tear each other apart for it.
I can only assume these are the kepra. Their skin is a molten gray, stretched taut over prominent bones.
They stand on their hind legs, thin, vein riddled wings spreading and flapping as they gnash pointed teeth at each other.
Their necks stem long and slender, connecting to thick, wide jaws with reptilian faces, as though they're descended from some line of mutated dragons.
The sharp curved claws of their feet dig into the ship deck, carving at the smooth, dark wood when they circle each other and the prey between them.
The larger one's slanted eyes flash yellow when it goes for the throat of the smaller one, razor teeth claiming a hunk of gray flesh. My hands lift to cup over my ears at the scream that follows. Something that vibrates through my bones. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to remember to breathe.
"I count to three and you run back for the door you came out of. No stopping. No looking back."
A small protest gathers in the back of my throat. God or not, he’s mad if he thinks I’m leaving him to fight these creatures alone. My eyes scan the deck, over the foremast and shrouds to the billowing sails and ratlines. There has to be a way to help, something I can do to give Crow an edge.
Give me a weapon, I want to insist, but he's already counting, pulling me up and pushing me toward the latticed door.
I scramble, duck beneath rigging that hangs low enough to collide with.
Every pulse of my heart feels electric. My rational mind insists I don't look back, but that's never stood in my way before.
There's no resisting a glimpse, and the scene sends my stomach plummeting.
Crow's drawn his cutlass. At the sight, the two massive creatures forget their battle over the goat, eyes set on a heartier meal.
They tower over him, long necks searching for a place to dart in and strike.
The larger tries its luck with a snap at his calf, but Crow is quick to jump to the side with a swing of his blade that narrowly misses the kepra's throat.
I study the gaping wound on the smaller kepra's neck where the larger ripped out a chunk and try to imagine what that might look like taken from a human.
The thought leaves me gagging but determined.
I'll need to do something, but what? Go down to wake the crew?
From the look of things, Crow could be dead before I got back with help.
They continue their lethal dance over the main deck and toward the forecastle, which rises up toward the rear of the ship.
Crow moves wraith-like, confident in each step as he holds his ground against their sweeping jaws and razor sharp talons.
The larger one lets out a bellowing screech when his blade slices through a section of its wing.
For a moment a hope rises in me; maybe he can take them both.
But then a shadow looms through the fog overhead, something larger than either creature on board. When it lands on the mast and roars, my blood turns frigid.
The smaller kepra tuck their heads and back away a fraction in a show of submission. When it begins slithering down the mast toward Crow, they fan out and I can feel their intention in the air; close in and surround him. He can't fight from every direction.
The gray skin is taut over the creature's spine, showing every ridge. The way the muscle and bone retracts with its movement down makes my own skin crawl. But I can't keep standing in one place with my mouth wide open.
I look around for something I can use as a weapon only to find the sprawling deck is surprisingly tidy for a pirate ship. There's nothing, save for my own imagination and willpower to help us now.
The largest of kepra makes a swiping bite like the other had tried before, and just the same Crow dodges it by a hair's breadth, but one of the smaller ones seizes the opportunity and lunges at his unprotected arm. The monster's teeth tear easily through the shirt.
I don't know what to expect. Certainly not the blood that follows. This is a man I shot who stood tall not a moment later, unphased, and proceeded to cut another man's hand off. So when crimson sprouts from the wound, flowing fresh and fast, a new wave of panic rises up inside of me.
“Pirate!” My scream echoes into the night, clear and unwavering. Three sets of glowing yellow eyes turn to find me; a ravenous hunger lives within them.
Crow seizes their moment of surprise, drawing my móeir’s blade from its sheath and driving it into the heart of the smaller kepra standing closest to him. The creature screeches out an unearthly sound as dark, tar-like liquid oozes over his hand and its body collapses with a great shudder.
The remaining two kepra shift back slightly, eyes torn between Crow and I. I see the moment click in their reptilian faces where they decide I'm the lesser threat and easier prey.
My knees shake and I bolt, considering the latticed door but deciding against it just as quickly. I won't lead these beasts down below to the belly of the ship and the rest of the crew. Rowan’s down there somewhere, and I've vowed to keep her safe.
My next impulse is to go up. To weave through the rigging and climb a mast toward the lookout at the top.
Crow lunges, jabbing at the back of the larger kepra.
The creature screams in pain when his blade slices through its thin skin.
Its long neck thrashes back and forth before it turns with menace in its stare. A promise of agony to unleash upon him.
I can't think about that, not with the other snapping at my heels.
The net-like ratline sways beneath my weight before I realize climbing probably isn't my best choice, either.
The creature spreads its wings, prepared to fly up after me, but a screech of frustration vibrates low in the base of its throat.
Its wing has been badly damaged by Crow's blade, so much so that taking flight seems to be too difficult.
Instead, its hook-ish talons dig into the mast wood and it begins grappling up.
I've reached dizzying heights. The fog has settled so low, I could snake out and waft a hand through it.
While the kepra is slower than I expected, I'm still running out of up.
The crow's nest lookout is an arms length away.
My trembling fingers wrap around the edge and I move to hoist myself inside when a searing pain ripples down my back.
Try as I might to hold on, I'm no match for the strength of the monster below me.
The kepra's leapt the final stretch between us and caught me just above the shoulder blade with the deadly claws connected to its wing.
It jerks hard, the anchored claw dragging through my flesh before it finds a good foothold deep in the muscle.
If I try to hold onto the crow's nest I'll be ripped in half.
If I let go, we're plummeting down to the hard deck below us.
There's only a split second to choose my fate and it's the latter.
Air whistles by my ears, sends my hair whipping wildly in every direction. I do what I can to twist my body and grip hold of the terrifying beast who's flapping its one good wing in an effort to slow the fall. My hope is to land on top of it, ease some of the blunt impact.
There's a sickening thwack when it's back hits the deck, and a popping sound when I roll off, weight thrust into my left ankle that was perched out at an angle too awkward to correct in time.
The pain is short but intense, only deafened by the scream in my back, still hooked by the kepra's talon like a fish on a line.
I can't break loose like I want to without causing more damage.
The creature's stunned from the fall, but it's lethally long neck means the moment it regains its senses I'm within striking distance.
Crow's roar of fury interrupts the thought and my eyes scan the deck for him.
A stomach turning scene, brutal and gory.
He's going toe to toe with the largest kepra.
Its massive form lumbers over him and he slashes away, narrowly avoiding the retaliating snaps of its many fanged mouth.
Inky blood pours down the creature's body, mixed with the bright crimson red from the pirate who doesn't seem to quit, maybe doesn't know how.
I try to move tentatively, my jaw grinding against the pain that radiates through my very being with every inch.
I want to scream, and almost black out when I lean forward too far, feeling the hooked claw twitch inside of me.
My soft groan draws Rhyland Crow's attention for a fleeting moment.
Long enough for us to lock eyes. Long enough to distract us both.
The kepra that has hold of me comes to and jerks in violent surprise. Fortunately for me it can't seem to move its lower half. Seems the fall weakened it and the crunching sound had been bones breaking.
In spite of this one stroke of luck, I'm still stuck and the kepra is still intent on devouring me.
It works to fold its wings inward. I'm pulled along with the movement, pain exploding through my entire back.
This close, it's easy for the creature to strike at me, serpent-like.
I bring my hands up to catch its slick jaw between my palms, pressing away with all of my might, to no avail.
It would take three men, twice my size, to hold this creature's head at bay for longer than a moment or two. My arms shake beneath the effort. I don't know what to do. Call out a final goodbye? Curse the gods in the heavens for allowing me such a fate?
I close my eyes and think of Rowan and then my móeir. I picture us standing on the shores of Aurorae, happy, whole. Free.
And then my arms give out.