Chapter 14 #2
I suppose leaving me beached on a shore she never would’ve permitted us to step foot on is one hell of a way to express her sexual jealousy and other pent-up frustrations.
I glanced over my shoulder; Malrik fumbled to get his bearings as he reached for his blade. His fingers curled around its hilt as his gaze met mine, his milky eyes glinting with malice. Driving his fist into the beachfront, he planted a knee beneath him, beginning to make his ascent.
Without wasting another second of observation, I pivoted, my boots sinking into the ground with little effort. Taking off in a full sprint, I ran toward the docks, watching as my deckhands unwound the rope from each cleat.
The landscape shifted from sand to cobblestone, my footsteps drumming against its uneven surface as I shimmied through the influx of creatures managing the arrival of the newest shipment.
As they passed looks of distaste in my direction, I didn’t bother to apologize.
I ducked beneath a crate that two of them were hauling.
As I came to stand, I rounded another body, sending a basket of fruit and other goods spilling.
Snatching an apple from the air before it could hit the ground, I dusted its skin against my shirt and pocketed it.
Tossing curses, claims, and wishes at me that I’d heard countless times, the island-folk circled in, creating a blockade I knew would hold Malrik off, even if it were just for a few extra seconds.
With bodies closing in, I leveraged the lack of space and let go of my self-restraint, slipping my fingers into pockets, on the hunt for something valuable.
Thieving bags of coins, a pendant necklace, and a ring, I maneuvered through the crowd, taking pieces of people’s lives without hesitation.
It came naturally—taking what wasn’t mine for my betterment—and I did it free of guilt or regret.
“Stop him!” Malrik screamed, his voice bellowing from the tail end of those attempting to chase me down.
Fixated on the ship, I watched the gap between it and the dock grow, knowing that if I didn’t make it, they’d easily sail on without me.
A manic chuckle tumbled from my lips as my gaze settled on a rope hanging from the top of one of the pillars.
Picking up pace, I ran alongside my sanctuary, leaping and leveraging a tiered stack of crates near the very end of the port to my advantage.
As I ascended its stair-like formation, I grabbed the coarse fibers and wrapped them around my palm, using one breath to secure my grasp before jumping.
It tightened like a noose, cutting off the circulation in my hand as I swung from the dock toward the ship I commanded.
Knowing I only had one shot at execution, I reached forward for the mesh netting draped over the port beam and ripped myself forward.
My shoulders cried out in protest, ligaments and muscles straining beneath the forced transition.
Brushing the pain aside in only a way I knew how, I loosened my hold on the rope from the docks, allowing it to sail back and whip against the pillar with a snap.
I began my climb, burying my booted feet into each square opening as I pulled myself up.
The adrenaline coursing through my veins led every movement as if I’d done this countless times before, and I would be lying if I claimed this was the first time Saph attempted to leave me high and dry on some random continent.
With the gunwale coming into sight, my fingers coiled around its lip, and, at the same time, a searing agony shot up my side.
An untamed cry fell from my lips, and I turned to look down, spotting Malrik’s blade buried to the hilt in my flesh.
Seething, my free hand grabbed the hilt, tearing it from its nestled position.
The vibrant yellow coating its tip mocked me, and I lifted my chin to find the Leader of Assassins standing in the crowd with a snide smirk coating his features.
“Safe travels, Vayne,” he chuckled, his tongue dancing across his bottom lip. “Because if you somehow make it through this alive, you’ll need the gods on your side the next time we meet.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the billowing fire that seemed to make up my blood vessels ignited.
Every organ felt as if someone had taken a match to it, making it nearly impossible to focus on the simple task of breathing.
Panting, my vision darkened as I struggled to climb over the lip of the ship and onto the deck.
Gods, I just want to lie down.
As if in answer to my unspoken request, a hand landed over mine, another reaching over and down to curl around my bicep. With a swift yank, I was pulled aboard, my body colliding with the rigid chest of one of the only people I knew I could count on.
Syoran.
“Fucking hell, Cas, we thought—”
I collapsed, my knees and palms slamming into the sun-soaked wood.
My breath hitched, a tremor rocking my frame as I curled in on myself and heaved.
Crimson stained the deck, my life force coating the deck for what felt like the thousandth time, reminding me just how delicate human life was.
It felt as if it were nothing but pure acid spilling from me, scorching my esophagus with a feeling far too similar to the lashings I’d become too accustomed to, too accepting of.
“Cas!” Syoran dropped to a knee beside me, his hands traversing my body, hunting for an injury.
Even the simplest touch set my nerves ablaze, the anguish amplifying to a near-unbearable level.
Spots swept over my vision, every sound vanishing as the ground teetered beneath me.
My shoulders rose alongside it, but my lungs failed to expand, the darkness encroaching far more rapidly than I’d hoped.
It was like I was drowning, but on land, with no viable means of escape, and I was panicking.
Syoran’s voice provided me a grounding cord, something to hold on to as I battled to stay awake—to stay alive. “What in the fuck were you thinking?!”
“He made it!” Saph.
“Yeah? He made it? He made it?!” he spat, agitated.
“It’s poison, Saph, poison! And you—you—are a worthless fucking navigator in this situation!
Because of your idiocy, we are likely going to be down a captain, and I am going to lose my best friend, because, as far as I’m fucking aware, we don’t have a herbalist onboard! ”
“How was I supposed to know?!” Her voice cracked, emotion overriding it.
“Oh, I don’t have a fucking clue. Maybe, for once, just have some godsdamned respect for the man who saved your life!” Silence stretched on, and neither of them exchanged another word. Instead, Syoran turned, combing his fingers through my hair. “Cas, I need you to stay with me, alright?”
“I-I c-can’t…”
Breathe.
I can’t fucking breathe.
“Get the fucking medic!” he barked out, slipping into his role as second in command. “NOW!”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
I won’t make it with a medic. Physical aid isn’t the only thing I need. No. This? This is internal damnation, and there is no way to save me from its hellfire.
“Yes, there is, Child.”
That voice. That familiar…
One of the deckhands spoke up, his voice coming through rapid bursts of my fading consciousness. “The girl.”
I swore I felt Syoran’s patience snap. “What fucking girl, Lionel?”
“The whore,” Lionel, our Boatswain, replied, dread consuming me as soon as the finality of his statement filled the air. “During my designated watch over her, I found out she harbors an understanding of herbs. She can save him.”