Chapter 33 A Prison of Promises #3
“Rhyland—” I start to ask, when the water directly in front of the bowsprit explodes upwards.
Not a crash, but a slow, terrifying heave.
A colossal head, scaled in shades of emerald and sapphire, rises from the depths attached to a creature with eyes like molten gold that fix on our ship.
The force of the wake rocks the Nightingale violently.
Shouts of fear from our own crew cleave the air.
Rhyland goes pale; a flash of panic, of raw and horrible understanding, convolutes his eyes.
“I don’t feel any magick here, Nymph.”
“What?” I can only manage a whisper.
He swallows hard. “I don’t think the boundary exists anymore. I can’t feel any magick.”
The serpent shifts; its massive, impossibly long body twists beneath the waves as it dives.
“She’s coming about!” someone screams as the water behind us churns and ripples.
The scaled back of the beast crests the water.
It’s circling us and coming about toward the rear of the ship where we stand, gaining speed as it goes.
When its head breaks the surface again, its jaw drops wide open, a gaping maw lined with teeth sharp as foot long dagger points, prepared to lunge directly at our stern.
At us.
A thunderous roar rips along the bay. I jerk in surprise, heart hammering into my ribs.
The two pursuing brigs have opened fire.
Cannonballs scream across the water, some glancing off the serpent’s thick, scale covered flank with dull cracks and thuds; others tear through the rigging of the Nightingale, shredding the wood of the stern.
Rhyland and I narrowly avoid a blast. He shoves me down and throws his body over mine, screaming for his crew to hit the deck.
Stark cries of pain bleed out from every direction, but all are drowned by the serpent’s roar of fury.
A deafening shriek, a promise of destruction.
The creature turns toward the bobbing brigs and I can’t help but wonder what the actual fuck they were thinking, firing like that.
They’ve all but sealed an early end for themselves.
Rhyland pushes himself up, dragging me after him.
“FULL SAILS!” he roars, seizing the opportunity without so much as a beat missed. “Starboard, hard about! Make for the harbor!”
Tannin and Briggs take up his order, parroting it over the mass of shell shocked pirates. They come round faster than I expect. Some are limping and bloody. Others don’t move at all. It’s still slow work. The cannon fire’s shredded bits of mast, torn through sails and rigging that looks important.
Tobias is sprawled out on the deck, bleeding from his shoulder that’s riddled with thick wood slivers.
Searle struggles at the helm. My ears ring but I think Rhyland tells me to stay put before he all but shoves him aside, working to correct the ship's path. I blink and quickly assess myself—unharmed, but shaking, though the smaller ships continue to fire on the approaching serpent and stray cannonballs ricochet around. I move to try and see what’s happening.
Distracted with his task of trying to get us underway, I don’t think Rhyland sees the gravity of what’s about to ensue—or maybe he does and there’s simply nothing he can do about it.
The serpent will make quick work of the two ships and set its eyes back on us.
The Nightingale limps ahead, but there’s no way we’re going to outrun that thing.
“Fuck!” Rhyland’s shout rips me back to him. “Hold this!” he bellows at Searle ,who retakes the wheel, using all of his strength to keep it steady. Tobias has started to seize, bleeding out crimson rivers from his wounds. The wood splinters must’ve severed a vital organ. How long does he have?
Rhyland looks to me, tan skin inked with the helmsman’s blood, and I can see how torn he is. Wanting to keep me by his side but knowing if I don’t go for help his friend will die.
“I’ll get Mattias!”
I don’t give him the chance to call me back.
We’re moving and that’s enough for now. Out of the cannon range at least, if such a thing exists anymore.
There are piercing groans and cracks in the distance suggesting at least one of the brigs is being busted apart by the serpent.
Crushed? Devoured? I can’t stop to check.
I race down the companionway into the fray of bodies. Someone slams into me, hard.
“Cyprian!” I shout. “We need Mattias at the helm! Tobias is hurt!”
The navigator nods. “I’ll get him. You find cover.
” His green eyes flash. “I mean it, Avalon. Now.” He races off and I almost heed his word.
Almost race back to Rhyland or look for a safe place to duck inside when a thought stops me.
I think of Rhyland’s claims. That the only thing that can kill the Queen’s beasts is my nymphfire, the everflame.
I have to try, don’t I? To save Rowan and Rhyland and everyone else on this damned ship.
Two gray haired figures race by but I reach out and grab hold of one. “Archer?”
He all but skids to a stop, yet still almost drags me over. “What are you doing? Get down below, Avalon.”
Aizen stops, too, staring incredulous at me.
“No,” I swallow. My brain’s working so hard to try and piece together a plan that the first wild and reckless thought rips out of my mouth. “Talon’s orders. He wants me on a longboat. Help me lower one down, quickly. We need to lead the beast a little ways away.”
“What?” Archer scoffs, golden eyes wide with bewilderment. “No fucking way he said that.”
“It’s true! And we have to work fast or we’re all going to die,” I nearly snarl it.
“You know I have nymphfire. It’s why Rhyland took me captive in the first place.
You know it’s the only thing that can kill that sea monster.
But I can’t risk starting the ship on fire in the process.
If you lower me down I can paddle out and face it.
Maybe hit it in the heart. That should kill it.
” I try really hard to sound more confident than I feel.
The twins stare at me for a moment longer, the chaos unfolding around us.
I don’t think they believe me. At least not about Rhyland asking me to do it…
but then again they’re his sea-forged, they must know that’s why he captured me.
This was my ultimate purpose, was it not? I’m the crew’s only hope now.
“Let her.” Reave materializes from the shadows in that wicked way of his. “You’re lucky I love my crewmates because I get the feeling Talon’s going to kill me for this. And you’re not going out alone.”
Could it truly be relief I feel at the sight of the shadowy rogue?
I almost protest. I don’t want to be responsible for his death…but I doubt I’ll make it far trying to paddle out on my own. “Okay,” I breathe, “Hurry.”
Reave nods. Archer curses and Aizen follows us. They work to start preparing a longboat. Aizen agrees to lower us down, Reave plans to paddle. He’s very brave, I think, and try not to feel worse about the idea of getting him killed.
The Nightingale is moving slowly enough that it’s not too rough of a drop into the water, though the longboat still pitches side to side in a way that makes my stomach heave.
I pull my cloak tight around me, trying to take comfort in the feel of it.
Will it stop a sea serpent from swallowing me whole?
Doubtful. But it’s too late to turn back now.
The choppy waters crack against the sides of the longboat; the spray soaks us both as Reave heaves against the wake with all his might.
No one’s shouting after us, so I don’t think anyone important has realized what we’ve done yet, but I don’t dare look back to check.
With a front row seat at the destruction the serpent has laid over the two smaller ships, I begin to wonder if it really is too late to turn around.
Reave must be having similar thoughts. “Godsbreath, Avalon, this is a stupid fucking idea. Even for you!” he shouts.
I try not to agree with him. At least not out loud. But my breaths are coming out in little panicked gasps.
As I suspected, the serpent turns and sets its eyes on the retreating figure of the Nightingale. For a moment, I’m certain it’s going to miss our little craft entirely and it prompts me to do something even more stupid. I stand up on shaking knees and shout across the water.
The creature pauses. Its golden eyes flit to us and the corner of its mouth lifts, sneer-like.
It dives beneath the waves, headed straight for us, and surfaces with such force it must be an act of the gods that keeps us from tipping.
All of my concentration goes towards summoning my nymphfire even as I hear the shouts take up behind me.
We’ve been found out. Rhyland roars and roars for me, but I can’t look back.
Can’t break my concentration or the fire will sputter and Reave and I will meet a very quick end.
The serpent’s even more terrifying up close, scales shimmering like a thousand emeralds with splashes of blue at its underbelly.
The gravity of my decision weighs on me under the brutal gaze of its ancient eyes.
There’s a cold intelligence in them. It pauses, regarding our tiny boat, and for a heartbeat, I think I glimpse something in those golden depths that isn’t pure hunger. A curiosity? A sort of wilted sorrow?
A strange impulse seizes me. I don’t want to hurt the creature. The nymphfire dances in my hand, wild untamed tendrils of silver light and heat. But I can’t bring myself to throw it at the creature, even as I see where the heart pulses—glowing a faint purple under the scales of its belly.
“Avalon!” Reave yells, his voice quaking with what sounds far too close to fear. “Do something!”
I can’t. I’m trapped in the gaze of the beast. Mezmerized. A connection stirs between us. Is it trying to tell me something? I feel the shift of the sea. The insistent beating within its depths. Raw, visceral power I could tap into. I know I could. My ears roar.
“Avalon!” Reave screams.
Does he not see? Does he not feel it? That sense. That connection. The belonging. We could merge. Become one. The serpent starts to lower its head. There’s a fluttering of my eyelids.
“Fuck,” Reave snarls. I hardly register what he’s doing. The beast lowers its head. Lower. Lower. And he grabs for his pistol, aiming it. Firing square into the creatures golden eye.
“No!” I scream.
The connection snaps and the beast rears back in pain, flailing side to side. Perhaps it can only be killed by nymphfire, but evidently it can be hurt by man made weapons if they hit the right spot.
Reave drops the pistol and starts paddling with a vengeance toward the Nightingale, which has slowed to a near stop.
The creature continues to thrash and flail before sinking down low into indigo depths.
Ichor pools to the surface. But I’m aware of it’s shifting.
The way it recovers, furious at its injury, ready to strike back.
There’s no time to think, only to act. I plunge my hands into the churning water, ignoring the icy shock of it, and reach for the power I know now is mine.
The power of the sea itself. It surges through me, responding to my iron will.
I claim you. I’ll shape you. You’re mine.
Mine to protect. Mine to command.
A wall of water erupts before our longboat: a tempest, flowing barrier that pulses and grows.
It folds out before plunging back down and enwrapping the creature beneath the surface.
I feel it. Feel the way it struggles and fights the hold.
Feel the force of the tidal wave subdue even that movement.
My breath leaves me; the longboat gives a rough rock back and forth.
“What the hel?” Reave’s words ring in the air, but he doesn’t stop rowing with all his strength. Everything he’s got to get us back to the Nightingale while I hold the monster at bay. We’re protected by my power, which could give any moment. Which takes all of my concentration. All of my willpower.
Fuck.
The creature continues to fight but I feel the way it tires, like I do. Who will give first?
Not me. Not me.
They heave us up. The longboat sways precariously, but I don’t look away from the spot under the sea where I have the monstrous serpent trapped. We’re pulled onto the deck. The ship starts moving again, cutting furiously through the bay, nearing the coast, the safety of the harbor.
Everything falls calm and clear and once I’m certain we are well enough away, I drop like a stone.
I’m only out for a few moments, and Rhyland caught me before I could hit the deck, but I can’t look at him. He’s furious, I can feel it.
The crew’s baffled. They don’t understand what they just saw.
“I think we misjudged the barrier boundaries,” Rhyland finally says to quiet them, his anger just barely concealed beneath the surface. “I think the serpent hit it.”
Of course, of course, they all say. That makes sense.
What other explanation could there be? No one can harness power over the sea.
House Aethelmaer is dead. They must all believe this to keep me safe, of course.
But there’s one pair of eyes I imagine can’t be fooled.
One that might’ve seen what I did. My gaze travels towards the heavens, as if he’s staring back, waiting to strike me down.
Rhyland follows my stare. I feel him shaking against me. What have I done?