CHAPTER THREE #2
“I may or may not have a kingdom looking for me,” Calvin replied at ease. “I think they may have stopped looking, actually.”
“A kingdom? For what?” I barked, covering my mouth to keep my voice low in case of eavesdroppers.
“He’s the missing prince of Dralendor,” Jun cut in at Calvin’s side, tauntingly against his friend.
My eyes shot wide.
“Yep. You’ve jumped on a ship with a pirate, a missing prince, and a rogue assassin. I bet your parents would be proud,” Calvin joked with a chuckle.
Rogue assassin? Parents?
My mind began to wander, but Zahara must have sensed my shock, because she glowered over her shoulder. “Don’t scare her off, yet. We’re going to need her.”
“In the depths, we have the Abyssal Hold for people like you all,” I fired back behind narrowed eyes. The ocean prison somehow flashed behind my glare, the pit for seafolk criminals. Daggered spikes jutted across the void-like walls of dead, stone coral.
The crew erupted in laughter, the sound comforting me slightly against the recollection.
I longed to do it again, to hear their chuckles, see their smiles, and I didn’t even know them.
Nor could I remember the last time I’d expressed my own happiness.
Maybe happiness was never an emotion I’d encountered in life and the reason my heart ached to find it.
We continued through the market streets until the sun nearly set, a slight shade of autumn harvest casting over us as the storm clouds poured their contents over the sea. Many moments passed where I envied the individuals so accustomed to its beauty that they passed it freely.
“Anything is better than Zahara’s hand-me-downs,” Calvin fought, handing me a pristine rose-colored satchel.
“I happen to love my new look.” Somehow, banter flowed easily with him, his lightheartedness paving a straight path to my heart. I snatched the bag playfully from his outstretched hand and hummed, jogging for the makeshift bathing chamber we recently passed.
The stall nearly met my head as I crouched low, switching into the maroon shirt, brown leather vest, and black stretchy pants that I fumbled to pull over my waist. No pair of pants should have been that damn hard to put on.
The dagger rubbed against my thigh in its new sheath, reminding me of its presence, and for some reason, confidence snaked through me at the feeling.
Calvin whistled a tune when I exited the stall, arms splayed to display the new outfit.
“I’ll be the first one to admit when I see a beautiful woman, and you, love…are it,” he said, bumping his shoulder into mine as we continued making our way back to the ship multiple steps behind Jun and Zahara.
“How many times have you said that to other women, though?”
Calvin laughed deeply, his shoulder shaking wildly.
“Too many to count,” he replied between gasps for air. “But I mean it. Really.”
“So, is charming women your go-to move when you don’t want them thinking about your bounty?” I queried playfully.
“It’s also how I manage to sneak out paying less coin without anyone noticing,” he teased, barely hiding his amusement.
“Well played. I’ll have to try that sometime.” The idea itched under my skin, as if my soul leaned toward rebellion. If I ever remembered myself again, I hoped I’d never forget the liberation in the streets of the Gringham markets.
“I might play the part when it suits me, but honestly? My interests don’t lie with women,” he murmured quietly, a touch of awkwardness behind the words.
My heart ached at his fearful—or embarrassed—reaction to the confession.
“Nothing about you just became less—”
The ground trembled fiercely, jagged cracks splintering beneath our feet in every direction. I nearly lost my balance, thrown out of equilibrium.
“To the ship!” Zahara ordered and took off.
The market streets erupted. Villagers fled in a tide of terror, pushing their way to the center of the island. Screams tore through my ears, sound slicing through the air far easier than in the sea.
I bolted clumsily, driven by adrenaline, but still fumbling with novelty. An uplift in the ground snagged my foot, and I was hurled across the gravel, each topple jarring my sore bones. Steps thundered around. Villagers rammed into me, unintentionally shoving me back down.
Where is Calvin? I thought, but in the midst of terror, he disappeared.
Zahara backtracked, searching frantically in the crowd as if she lost her only prized possession until she spotted me.
Would I ever mean more to her than just my service?
“Let’s go, water-girl! The Oricaan are coming!” the pirate yelled through the hoards of people.
The villagers cleared, battering their way through the narrow streets.
And that’s when I noticed what pulled itself through the faults in the land.
Gilded, giant claws clasped the rim of the fissure and hauled its body from beneath the ground.
Another followed suit, their animal-like bodies melded out of glinting gold and towering over the harbor—over the screaming, pleading villagers.
All that’s holy.
I had never seen anything like it. The first gilded creature lifted one of its fisted claws above its feline-shaped head and brought it down crashing before the scurrying crowd.
The island shook with the impact, chunks hurling, many crushing the people.
Blood pooled beneath the boulders, the crunching of bone audible through the distance.
The beings that survived trembled in a clustered group, clinging to their loved ones as prayers pierced the sky.
Steady arms gripped under my shoulders, pulling me to my feet. Calvin.
No. No, no, no. This was all wrong.
“Run!” he screamed, pulling my arm toward the harbor docks.
Damn the consequences. I should have died hours prior, but I’d rot before I ran.
I lunged out of Calvin’s grip like a living weapon, blade within my palm, and took off toward the charging Oricaans.
“To the water!” I thundered across the battlefield. Shuffling through the humans, I screamed over and over, shoving them backward toward the ocean.
The water will bring them solace, a gentle voice floated in my mind, repeating the words in haste. If it proved to be wrong, I’d never forgive myself, but I trusted it.
The crowd, at first confused by my blubbering hysterics, moved at my bidding and changed their escape route toward the sea. I raced backward with them, heart thundering as the Oricaan beasts lessened the distance between us.
I skidded to a halt meters away from the safety of the waves, blood running cold as a child’s distant wail blasted forth like a storm-forged call at my back. A young girl, no older than five, cowered in the streets before the gilded beasts as everyone splashed into the shallow ocean.
The creature stomped its giant limbs forward, her shrill cries amplifying and vibrating with the Oricaan’s impact. They echoed like a dagger to my gut.
My vision blurred between memory and reality, like watching a vision from behind a frosted glass window.
Lashes whipped into the back of a silver-haired merfolk child’s tail—my tail.
Tiny screams echoed through the void around me, like the young girl that needed me before the Oricaan beast. The memory was my own resurfacing, but it dissipated quickly, leaving behind only the phantom pain that shocked through my calves.
Our cries were the same… except it seemed as if I had no one to save me. But she does.
I turned, teeth gritted, and charged back with ravenous vengeance for my own memory and for the slain beneath the boulder. Dirt kicked up in my wake, uneasy steps fueled by adrenaline as they quickened.
The Oricaan ascended its daggered foot over the child, a massive shadow casting over us both.
Right when it surged downward, I scooped the girl within my arms and lunged out of its trajectory.
The beast’s hit shattered the ground at our backs, throwing us both forward.
I caught myself narrowly, an arm pushing us both back vertical, but I forced my legs toward the sea with the child in tow.
Calvin, Jun, and Zahara waded knee deep many meters before us, watching in horror as the Oricaan chased behind.
The land raged behind us, the golden creatures gaining at our backs, and with the added weight of the girl, I couldn’t run any faster.
I threw a quick, wary look over my shoulder, and my attention caught just behind the head of the gilded beast. An armored male weaved his arms through the air like a conductor leading a monstrous symphony.
With every sharp flick of his wrist, the creature moved, not with instinct, but with obedience, as if bound to his will by unseen strings.
The scent of salt and water wafted through my nose before my feet splashed into it, instant relief filling my chest, but it wasn’t enough for me. I wanted revenge.
“Give her to me,” Zahara demanded at the ocean’s edge where she guided the inhabitants, her arms extended in a panic. The child whimpered at the handoff, but Zahara did not hesitate and took off neck deep into the sea.
The creatures met me head on, and I lifted my chin in confidence, praying to any god that would listen.
The dagger in my palm flipped perfectly, and I caught it by the sharp-edged blade.
Like muscle memory, I flicked my wrist and sent it flying.
The weapon pierced exactly where intended—between the eyes of the male puppeteering the destruction.
Holy shit.
The beast crumbled before us all, dissipating into the air like golden ash that blanketed the harbor. I scrambled to make out what I had done, how moments prior I couldn’t walk but suddenly threw the blade with direct accuracy under pressure.
I tore toward the smoking particles and snatched my gifted blade before taking back off toward the crew.
Iredale’s villagers crammed onto the darkened, storm-ridden shore. Zahara met my gaze beside the parents of the shivering child in their clutches and offered a slight nod, a silent gesture of gratitude.
She took off, swimming back to the docks and jumping up on the wooden pier by the moored ship. Jun and Calvin surfaced the ship’s edge, reminding me of my own experience scaling the hull.
“We need to get out of here fast,” Calvin yelled as Zahara and I sprinted across the gangplank. “Where the Oricaan are, the Royal Vanguard follow.”