Chapter 13
Thirteen
Iwasn’t sure what was worse: the fiery sensation as the rope twisted and pulled at my arm until it snapped out of its socket, or the harsh, unforgiving cold that slammed into me when Kilia and I hit the stormy surface.
Bubbles burst from my mouth as my scream died in my throat, and my hot tears were lost to the brackish water when Kilia’s weight became an anchor, dragging me deep into the dark and sending shards of white-hot pain through my arm.
Despite what it would mean, I tried to tear my hand free from the rope tethering me to the twin.
The urge to live was too strong—I couldn’t fight it.
But my fingers only slipped on the hard knot, and the sea drowned another of my shrieks as I failed.
I had to clamp my lips shut not to pant—not to pull murky seawater into my empty lungs.
We were still sinking. And we were doing so fast.
That I could tell through the haze of agony that clouded my vision.
Fuck. I twisted my body, biting down on my lip at another jolt of pain. Kilia was unconscious, the darker cloud around his head not just a shadowed spot of the ocean but a cloud of blood. I cursed again as his body jerked, his lungs replacing air with sea.
Darcke’s spiteful eyes simmered in my mind.
Coward. Spoiled. Liar.
“I hate you,” I tried to scream. Even the bubbles taunted me, growing smaller and smaller with every moment the sea drained the life from my body. Pain shattered my thoughts, stabbing at my lungs and my legs and my arms.
But I couldn’t just save myself. I needed Kilia to get out of here alive. I needed him to keep my people alive.
A whimper rattled my rib cage when the current took hold of us, throwing us back and forth until I was certain my arm would pull clean off.
Darcke’s grin flashed in the dark water.
That fucking bastard.
I desperately threw my head back and forth, searching for any darker spots—any shadows breaking through the clouded sea—when another surge took hold of us, lurching us forward with its bottomless strength.
Again, I cried out into the thieving flow, my arm wrenching against the waters and Kilia as we overtook the ship, the vessel’s wide body casting an eerie veil over us.
As I scowled at the dark formation, silently sending a threat of a violent death to the warrior, a hacking breath tried to find its way into my lungs, and my jaw quivered as it fought it.
The shadow mocked me—teased me with its nearness.
The current had brought us closer. If I had my full strength, I could reach it in seconds.
Coward.
I acted before I could second-guess myself.
Reaching down, I wedged my foot in the empty sheath hanging by Kilia’s waist, and at the same time I tugged him upward, I gripped my dislocated arm and pulled on it as hard as I could.
For the first time, I was glad we were beneath the surface because the scream leaving me wasn’t filled with any honor—the sound was entirely unfit for the blood running through my veins.
Fucking Fenrir’s grave, that hurt.
But when I flexed my fingers and they responded, I drowned the pain like the sea tried to do me. After freeing my foot, I used it to kick at Kilia. The twin didn’t respond. Only a trail of blood trickled up from his nostrils, like a taunting thread that could do nothing to get us out of here.
The shadow above us moved faster now, and I desperately pulled on Kilia’s arm as I used my free hand to move us upward, closing my eyes against the exertion.
I listened to the waters, tried to remember how they sang to our ships when we sailed them—tried to hear the hum of my father’s wood as it cleaved the waves.
But the sea was as silent as the ship had been loud in its decision not to help me, and the vessel above us started to distance itself.
My eyes hunted the dark for any shred of salvation—a floating timber, a shallow reef—but the deep offered nothing but suffocating quiet.
A silent curse took the rest of the breaths inside me. For every moment that passed, darkness crept in at the corner of my eyes. My blinks slowed, and every time I closed my eyes, those I loved took the sea’s place.
My father. Lika. My siblings. My people.
A melody started in my mind as the ship’s shadow grew, its speed changing yet again—slower now.
A low, guttural thrum like the vibration of a war horn wrapped around me, and the pain was replaced by a strange euphoria—one it would be so easy to give in to.
One face after another appeared with increasing haste, and I gritted my teeth when Kilia’s limp body tugged at my aching arm.
My father’s harsh, weather-beaten face moved back and forth.
I could hear his voice so clearly in my mind.
Protect your people, Elvara. Above all, protect your people.
He smiled at me before his familiar features gave way to unknown blank faces, but ones that felt as much like home as he did.
My people.
I needed to protect them. I needed to stay alive for them.
My free arm started moving again as drums joined the melody, each thump squeezing my heart and pushing me to try—to fight.
It shouldn’t be possible. Even with my muddled mind, I knew that.
But as I clawed at the water as if it were solid earth, trying to drag my weight and Kilia’s against the crushing deep, the underbelly of the ship grew.
And grew. Until I reached a rope trailing the vessel—one of the ones that had tethered it to Nordoen.
My fingers were stiff as they wrapped around hemp, and a huff left me when the speed of the ship made us fly forward faster than I expected. A scream reverberated inside my mind, but still that song played. Iron exploded across my tongue, but the drumming in my veins still pushed me forward.
As I kicked my legs and used the rope to drag us up, we moved, slowly but steadily, toward the light that flickered around the hull.
I shattered the surface with a gasp, flinging my head back as I heaved Kilia upward with me.
Fighting the deep until I managed to level his weight, I forced Kilia’s limp form to crest the swell as water erupted from his lungs and he gasped.
Pulling several deep breaths myself, I blinked against the fierce light.
As the melody in my mind faded, sounds that belonged to neither a ship nor the sea battered my eardrums. Shrieks, horns, and the telltale cries of battle tore through the air.
I dragged Kilia with me as I spun in the water, my lips parting at the scene unfolding before the ship we floated beside.
Crimson stained the water, and several initiates came swimming toward us, their eyes bloodshot and their strokes urgent as they whipped their heads around as they tried to escape.
Behind them, others were fighting through the water, attempting to get to the stony beach to escape the wrath of men and women with streaks of blood covering their foreheads and eyes.
The war paint was the only thing that was Viking about these enemies.
While gaunt and pale, these captives—because these were King Gustief’s enemies from his travels—were armed.
Large jagged bludgeons swung against heads and sharpened driftwood pierced skin whenever they found it, and there were even some with knives in their hands, jabbing at whoever dared get too close.
Ivren stood on the rocky beach to my left, his chest heaving while the man tied to him pressed a palm against a deep wound in his forehead. Behind him, Viljan swore at Rakkel’s guard, his eyes fierce as they flew across the water. Ottoh and Adrion and Rakkel were nowhere to be seen.
I cursed silently at the many bodies floating face down in the dark waves, using my hands to stop them from bumping into me. Swimming toward my friends, I used the ship to keep Kilia and me shielded until my feet found a carpet of splintered rock.
I had risen and gone to take a step when Viljan found me, and his face relaxed for a second before blanching as he took a step toward me, dragging Stefen with him.
“Watch out!” My guard’s scream pierced my bones and I spun, ready to meet the wrath of a foreign captive.
“You!” Kilia spat as he threw himself at me.
The back of my head slammed into stone as he pummeled me into the water, and my mind spun as I spluttered and choked, my jaw tight as I battled the salt water that hungered for my lungs.
There was no air to be found as Kilia’s hands came around my neck. My limbs moved with a mind of their own, driven by a frantic urge for survival.
He was wobbly as well, and it didn’t matter that I wasn’t as strong as I’d been a fortnight ago. I slammed a fist into his throat, aiming for the knot bobbing there.
As he gagged, I drove the heel of my palm into his nose.
I felt the bone snap like dry kindling, and the force of the blow buckled his knees, sending him crashing down atop me.
His hands loosened their grip enough for me to wrangle out from beneath him, and I had picked up a rock to strike him with when his hands found my wrists.
With a cut-off cry, he dragged me down again. I splashed water in his face, but although his eyes shut, he didn’t let go. A furious shriek left me as he pulled me to him, and fear chilled my guts when my kicks did little to deter him.
As his hot breath fanned over my face, I screamed, “What is wrong with you?”
My head pulsated as he grinned a violent, vicious smile. “Revenge, Sweengard. The thirst for revenge runs hot in my blood. And now that you’re weakened…”
“I didn’t do anything!” I thrashed to break his hold, but it only anchored him deeper, his weight pinning me to the jagged seabed. His hands found my shoulders, and with a snarl, he tried to drive me back into the cold embrace of the deep.
“I don’t care,” Kilia hissed.
I groaned at the weight of him, squirming to find a way to escape.
Something flashed above me, and I looked up. Darcke stood there, elbows resting on the railing above the chaos, nothing shadowing his features as he stared back at me. I bared my teeth at him when he nodded in a bored salute I didn’t care one fuck for.
Bastard.