Chapter 23 The Deep Has Teeth
Whispers of the Old Faith linger in the shadows.
While the hands that hold the Book of Hush hold the world in their palms.
Rhyland’s warning is left ringing in my ears as I navigate the passage further down. Back to Rowan and the cloak of shifting tides which I left with her before seeking out Mattias.
Stay below. Keep the cloak on no matter what.
I can hardly breathe through my terror and the sudden, ominous way the ship begins to lurch and groan around me.
It’s hard to stay upright, and I’m slammed into the walls of the narrow corridors more than once.
Sailors rush past me, fighting their way to the main deck to offer whatever help they can above.
It goes against every instinct I have to move deeper into the ship’s belly.
Images of frigid water filling the hull…
of the chains binding me to the floor... I can’t shake or quiet them.
I’m not meant for the sea. In fact, I think I’m meant to be very far away from it. But there’s little I can do about that now. So, I try not to think at all and instead keep shoving my way past the flow of pirates who hardly take notice of me, until a familiar grasp catches my arm.
“Vale, what are you doing?” Cyprian's face comes into focus. He’s strapped down with thick ropes carted over his shoulders. So fast he’s moved to follow Rhyland’s orders.
I blink. “Going below. Rowan’s waiting.”
His brow scrunches in confusion. “Rowan? I just saw her, she was headed above deck, looking for you and Sabre. I tried to stop her and tell her where you were but she was relentless. And surprisingly fast.”
“Above deck?” I nearly howl it and start to turn away so I can race up after her but he stops me again.
“Wait here. I’ll go and send her down. It’s dangerous up there; you’ll be no help to her sloshing around the main deck and getting in everyone’s way.”
I wish I had an argument to stand on but he might be right. What strength would I have against crashing waves? Trying to navigate dark, unfamiliar surroundings? Still, it’s everything in me to nod and stumble down the hall. And then to the connecting corridor that leads to Rowan’s room.
It’s not grand, but it’s clean with a soft bunk and a sturdy chest to store her meager belongings.
I race to the hook on the wall and reach for the slippery cloak to drape over my shoulders.
My eyes close as instant warmth floods me.
A calm that feels safe and welcoming, like I’m back on Mór’s isle. Like nothing can hurt me.
My eyes open fast, as the same cannot be said for Rowan above, and who knows if Cyprian will follow through on his word.
If he won’t get distracted or too injured himself to get to her.
With this cloak on, the sea can’t hurt me.
Doesn’t that make me the best suited to go and retrieve her?
More promising than waiting down here in the dark, water dripping rhythmically inside as waves slam into the ship's hull.
Above deck, the stench of salt and fear hangs heavy in the air, a sickly counterpoint to the deafening roar of the storm.
Rain lashes down, stinging my face like a thousand needles until I pull the cloak hood up to shield against it.
It blurs the chaotic scene unfolding and renders me half blind.
The Nightingale’s become a bucking beast, tossed mercilessly by waves the size of the grand houses that line the streets of Harbor Valley.
I’m shaking, violently, even before a monstrous creak echoes from above.
I drag my gaze up toward the source of the noise, finding the very top of the foremast and a jagged split in the sail that stands out like a flapping black wound against the churning sky.
Above it, brave crewmen cling to their positions for dear life, desperately trying to furl the canvas back up before it’s ripped away entirely and lost to the sea.
I recognize one of the contorted faces among them, slick with sweat and rain.
It seems, just as I feared, Cyprian became distracted in his search for Rowan, which leaves me to my own devices down here.
The wind howls, screaming by them and carrying shouted orders from both Rhyland at the helm and Briggs, who’s working to secure whatever he can manage to keep the ship from being ripped apart by the storm.
Things I can’t name creak and groan and splinter away.
A sickening lurch below my feet has me sprawling.
I fight for my footing, claw at the obsidian deck and right myself just in time to see a wall of water rise over the port side.
A collective gasp seems to escape the throats of the crewmen who watch it rise and crash.
Like a monstrous green serpent with a frothy white crest, it looks poised to swallow the ship whole.
Tons of frigid black water thunders onto the deck, its weight soaking into my boots and threatening to knock me sideways again.
Through the watery curtain, I catch a glimpse of a figure, almost ghost-like in her white night dress, slighter than the others, clinging to the rigging line near the forecastle with all her might.
My terror of the storm and sea dampens, transformed by the sight of Rowan in such a state.
All I can think of is getting to her now.
The cloak will protect me, so I must protect her.
“Rowan!” I shout for her and take hold of the same rigging line to steady and pull myself her way as the waves continue to pound down on us.
A figure emerges from the spray, sputtering sea water from his bearded mouth. He staggers toward me with a slight limp. Tobias.
“Lass!” he yells. “What are ye doin’ out here in this? Ye need to batten down belo’!”
I duck beneath his burly arm and pull myself in earnest along the line, inching closer and closer to Rowan’s shivering frame as he bellows curses into the storm.
Icy rain continues to sting every exposed inch of me but I ignore it. The ship lurches violently under foot, throwing me off balance toward the gunwale. I bite down on a short screech, using all of my might to close the few feet ahead that separates me from Rowan.
Her brown eyes are wide, and I can’t tell if it’s rain or tears streaking down her face.
“Rowan, what were you thinking coming up here?” I yell over the roar.
“I was looking for you! What's your excuse?”
It feels like a curse, this forever reaching for each other just to wind up in situations more and more treacherous.
What god have we angered so greatly that this would forever be our fate?
An aching suspicion I might know rises and falls in the back of my mind, but there's no time to worry about that now.
“Here, put this on.”
Safe. I need her to be safe. The thought drives me to unfasten the cloak from my shoulders to throw it around hers.
She looks confused but doesn't fight me as I fasten it tight near the nape of her neck.
My sense of security dissipates the moment it leaves my shoulders, followed by a wave of true terror. A twitching begins in my fingers.
The roaring sea, the beating wind, it all comes into sharp focus and I can’t move. Can't breathe.
Push it down. Keep going.
“Vale!” Rowan cries out when another wave hits the ship. Her voice breaks through the terror.
I’m keenly aware of Tobias, stationed behind me, and work to maneuver around Rowan so that she’s planted between us, secure on both sides.
“There!” I shout. “Let's get back below deck before the sea swallows us.”
Rowan nods and her pale hands tremble as she grips the rigging line, pulling with all her might to ease toward the trap door that leads down below.
Thunder shakes the sky above us, a rumble so powerful that the vibration of the deck can be felt through my sturdy boots.
With it, another loud creak echoes through the stormy air.
The three of us look up as men shout in alarm.
I watch a flailing figure fall, hit the deck hard with a sickening thwack, and the foremast makes another awful sound.
“Vale!” Rowan’s voice is strangled now. Her hand shoots out, pointing to one of the crew members above who were sent sideways, tangled and dangling from the lines. “Vale, it’s Sabre. I know it’s her.”
There’s no denying the golden blonde hair, loose and billowing in the harsh wind as she struggles to find a foothold of some sort and pull herself up. She’s head down, her leg entwined in rope that could give at any moment. I swallow at the sight, shaking.
Fuck, it had to be her?
“Sabre!” Rowan shouts, the name twisting into a half sob as she struggles against mine and Tobias’ hold. “Sabre, I’ll help you! Let me go.”
Her thrashing is determined but admittedly pathetic. Rowan’s life since joining the Sisters has not prepared her physically for anything like this. She wouldn’t make it halfway up the ratlines before being blown away by the whipping winds.
“Stop, I’ll get her. I’ll get her, Rowan. If you promise to stay here.” I have to scream it over the storm.
She looks at me, a sense of horrified understanding bleeding across her expression as the reality of what she needs me to do settles in. The awful choice to keep me safe with her and lose whatever budding bliss she has with Sabre, or risk both of us.
It’s a dead sort of feeling, one that creeps deep down into my soul when she shakes her head and her grip on me loosens. Just how much was she downplaying her feelings while we ate together that morning?
It doesn't matter. She needs Sabre to stay safe. The woman can protect her in a way I can’t, which means I have to save her now.
“Lass, Talon’ll have me head for this!” Tobias bellows when I turn away, headed for the foremast. He makes a swiping grab for me but his face contorts with pain, his bad leg nearly giving out when another wave blunders the shipdeck. It’s all he can do to hold onto the heaveline and Rowan.