Tides of Torment (Immortal Realms Book 2)

The soft splash of water against the hull and the gentle creaking of the rigging lulled Sereia into a mild sense of peace. Overhead, the sky was clear, allowing the constellations to twinkle and shine across the vast darkness. Gazing up at them, she could tell they were steady on course for Novgor. Boran, though likely half asleep where he stood at the wheel, was keeping them heading in the right direction.

Lifting her bottle to her lips, she took a deep swig of the amber liquid inside, enjoying the slosh of it as it swirled around. Seated on the deck, Sereia leaned back against the foremast, her legs stretched out before her and crossed at the ankles. She wore one of Travion’s linen shirts, the stays left open at the top, and a pair of her own breeches. She hadn’t even bothered with boots as she’d slipped from bed and made her way out of the cabin.

Idly, her fingers twined around the pendant hanging from her neck.

“Shouldn’t you be curled up in the arms of your king?” came a deep voice from behind.

Rolling her eyes to the heavens, but not bothering to look in his direction, she took another sip of rum. “Can’t sleep.” It was turning out to be impossible to find a position that didn’t cause her ribs pain. Chailai had informed her she’d managed to break two and badly bruise another.

At least she hadn’t returned with a series of wood chunks embedded in her flesh and lungs full of sea water.

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

No, she was well aware it was not. Sleep was hard to come by when the notion that Travion had been right about her needing him chafed so badly. Him being down in the depths of the sea, unable to breathe, had been one of his most idiotic moves yet, but she had needed his help. What they had accomplished neither could have done on their own.

“What else would it be?” She would deny anything else until she was blue in the face.

“Perhaps this latest incident with your king nearly drowning at the bottom of the sea?” Adrik asked pointedly.

“What he does with himself is his business,” she argued pitifully, causing him to snort. She took another swig of rum from the bottle.

Aggravatingly, Adrik had pinpointed the issue directly. Despite everything else, the thing weighing most heavily on Sereia’s mind was the realization that Travion truly did not seem to care about his own wellbeing at all. Not but two months ago, he had nearly died, gored terribly by a manticore, and now, without thought for himself, he had gone into another near-death experience.

If left to his own devices, Sereia was sure this trip would kill him.

Adrik reached down to swipe the bottle of rum from her hand, bringing her thoughts back to her company, and dropped a small vial into her lap instead. “Why don’t we try Chailai’s healing tinctures first, rather than the spirits.”

Hissing in irritation, Sereia watched him carry her bottle to the railing, where he took up a leaning position and drank from it just to torment her. “I don’t like the way they make me feel afterward. Clouds my thoughts.”

“More so than this?” He shook the bottle in her direction, earning another glare.

“Yes.”

“Still wearing that, huh?” He nodded at the pendant.

Sereia dropped her hand, having forgotten she was even playing with it. “Mhm.”

“I’m not used to you wearing jewelry.”

“And your point?”

Adrik simply chuckled, shaking his head. For a moment, he looked up at the sails, taking another swig from the bottle. Then his eyes fell back to her, and he studied her silently. His shoulder-length hair tumbled into his eyes as the wind grasped gently at it. For a moment, the only sound was the soft flap of the sails in the wind and the gentle crush of the water beneath their hull. “Come now, Rei. Be honest with me. Why are you really out here rather than in there with him?”

“Where I choose to sleep or drink is none of your concern,” she growled.

With Travion in her personal quarters, there was no escaping her feelings for him, and what had once been her sanctuary was quickly becoming a place of torment. To always have him within arm’s reach—it was the embodiment of the secret desires she never dared give voice to. And now, on top of that was fear that at any moment she might lose him forever. It was more than she could take.

Adrik shrugged and took another swig of the rum, letting out a guttural sigh as he finished swallowing. She wished that it was her throat the alcohol was burning.

“We both know that someone has to—”

She didn’t listen to the rest of what he had to say because a flickering in the distance caught her attention. She stood up, pressing a hand to her side as her ribs burned in agony, and moved to the railing.

“You can’t just ignore me,” Adrik complained.

Lifting her hand, she pressed it over his mouth, which seemed to always run, and nodded to the fire. “I see flames.”

Her first mate turned, squinting out over the water. “Shit.”

Sereia turned and cupped her hands over her mouth. “Boran!” she shouted. “We’ve got fire ahead! Approach with caution.” It was hard to know what they were coming upon, and it would be best to go carefully.

Adrik was already moving to loosen the main boom and push it into a better position for capturing the headwinds. The Saorsa responded, picking up speed as it sliced through the mildly choppy waters and brought them closer to the fire. Boran angled the bow of the ship away from the potential wreck so that they would come up alongside it.

Sereia cursed herself for not having her spyglass on her hip but stared out over the water as they drew nearer. Squinting, she was finally able to make out what they were looking at.

“Rocks! Drop the sails!” She spun on her heels, racing down the steps to the main deck, ignoring the way her ribs screamed in protest. “We’re coming up on an island!” she shouted up to Boran.

The flames lighting the sky were from a fishing boat, caught up on a series of rocks below the water’s surface. They were always a danger as one neared islets in the middle of the sea.

Leaving his post, Boran joined Adrik and Sereia in reeling in the sails. Sereia’s hands slid over the ropes, feeling the burn against her palms and fingers as she wrenched on the leads. Every jerk made her ribs throb, and sweat formed along her hairline. Gritting her teeth, she worked through the pain.

Seeing that they were still coming up on the island faster than she would like, Sereia rushed over to the anchor. Releasing it with a groan, she watched it sink into the water, then waited.

The Saorsa gave a bit of a lurch as the anchor caught at last, beginning to drag on the bottom of the sea. Barely keeping her own footing, Sereia heard the curse come from the direction of her cabin and couldn’t help but smirk.

“Wake the crew, Adrik. I want boats out on the water searching for survivors.”

“Aye, Captain.” He moved quickly to the bell hung from the mainmast. It rang out, shrill and clear, a signal to all to be up and ready. There were duties to be seen to.

Sereia pressed a hand to her screaming side and panted short breaths to see her through the pain. “Signal HMS Speedwell, Boran. They’ll need to know there is an island and survivors to collect.”

“On it.” Boran moved to the mainmast and dug around for the appropriate flags. Then, with ease and haste, he climbed the rigging to the top to string them up and light the lamp so they would be visible in the night sky.

Sereia steadied herself and headed back up to the bow, peering out over the water. Until the fire was out on the other boat, they wouldn’t be able to look for survivors onboard. And if left to its own devices, the fire wasn’t going to be done until the ship sank beneath the waves. They couldn’t leave innocent people to potentially burn to death. Not when she could do something about it.

She took a deep breath, her body shaking from the pain, and climbed over the railing. Sereia looked back over her shoulder in time to see Travion coming out of the cabin, hair a mess and face scrunched in a surly expression. She smiled at the sight of him and knew then she was making the right decision. He could not be put at risk again, not so soon. Not when he was still injured.

Preparing herself for agony, Sereia looked out at the burning ship and jumped into the water. The fact that she could breathe underwater saved her. The minute the impact of hitting the sea rocked through her body, she inhaled involuntarily, sucking in a large mouthful of water.

As she surfaced, she could hear Adrik shouting at her. “Dammit, Captain!” he roared. “What in the bloody hell are you doing now?”

Waving up at him, Sereia buoyed herself. “Someone’s got to put the fire out!” she shouted back up at him.

“You’re not well enough for this, get back up on the ship.”

“The wrong person is giving orders right now, Adrik.” She growled in frustration. “I’m the only one who can do this. Just focus on getting those on Speedwell caught up and searching for survivors.”

She turned from him and focused on the fishing boat. There wasn’t any more time to waste. Not if they hoped to find anyone alive.

Knowing that her side wouldn’t handle the stress of swimming, she reached out to the water around her and created a small whirlpool to propel her smoothly across the distance between the ships.

Once she was bobbing on the surface alongside the fishing boat, Sereia lifted her hands and sent a wave of water up and over the deck. The flames hissed and sputtered, continuing to burn strong until she increased the amount of water falling down. She continued doing so until the flames had flickered entirely out, and only dark smoke drifted lazily up from its surface.

Behind her, she could hear the dories being lowered to the sea as her crew began their late-night search. Shouts mingled with the splashes as the Speedwell arrived and added to their numbers. Now she needed to get up onto the ship to see if there was anyone to be found.

Sereia used her whirlpool once more to lift herself out of the water. As she hit the wet surface of the deck, she lost her footing and dropped to one knee, cursing as her side flared in agony.

“Damn the high seas,” she growled under her breath, inhaling slowly through her nose in short bursts.

Sereia climbed carefully to her feet and crossed the blackened deck, being cautious of weak looking spots. Such loss and destruction was heartbreaking to see. This had been someone’s livelihood. And now it was all gone. The thought of losing her own ship in a similar manner made her stomach knot.

Seeing no one on the deck, Sereia moved to the hatch, which lay wide open. A quick look down into the bowels of the ship told her the most severe damage had happened below. Carefully, she ventured down into it as best she could, careful not to slip and fall once more, knowing the chances of piercing a lung only increased the more pressure she put on the broken bones.

Below, the insides of the ship were dark, lit only by the full moon shining in through the open hatch. However, it was enough to see the large hole in the hull where jagged rocks had broken through as the ship fetched up on the outcropping. That wasn’t the only thing. Inside the hull lay a severed tentacle the length of the ship itself. It was seared longways, and from the charred remains of the hull around it, she would say the crew had set fire to the ship in hopes of killing the beast.

“Hello?” she called out, peering around.

Eerie silence was her only companion. Other than herself, there did not appear to be a living soul aboard. There was a heavy stench of burnt wood and charred flesh that made her upper lip curl in distaste. The bottom of the hull was filled with water that had poured in from the open hole.

Slowly, Sereia waded through the water. Crates and apples floated on its surface, along with a wooden goblet. She moved to examine the tentacle more closely. It appeared to be the same shade as the creature that had taken down the Ackazanti and Prepik, which made her think it was from the very same kraken.

Which meant the monster was traveling down the coast and had likely come here after decimating Novgor.

Sereia halted as something brushed against her thigh. Looking down, she jerked back, gasping in horror as the charred remains of a fisherman floated by in the dark water. Lifting a hand to her lips, Sereia shuddered at the sight and could only pray to the sea spirits that he had already been dead before the flames found him.

With the greatest of care, Sereia used the water in the bowels of the ship to lift the body up onto the main deck. He couldn’t be left down here, not to rot away in the hull of this tragic ship. He deserved either a proper burial at sea or to return home.

What had the captain of this ship done when the kraken appeared? Had it all been lost before they struck rock, or had that been their one saving grace?

Had she been foolish in bringing her crew into this whole sordid affair? Every ship that came across these monsters was lost, and in some cases, entire crews killed. Her need to help Travion had sent her barreling into this without a thought, just as recklessly as he threw himself in the way of harm. But it wasn’t only herself she had placed in danger; it was everyone who called The Saorsa home. Her family. And they were her responsibility to protect.

With a newfound heaviness weighing upon her, Sereia looked to make certain there were no other bodies, then climbed back up through the hatch. As she crossed back over to the railing, she saw one of her dories floating below.

“Anyone aboard, Cap?” Yannik called up.

“No one alive. I do have a body, however, that I need you to come and fetch. We’ll be taking him back with us for a proper burial.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“And Yannik? Please show him the utmost respect.”

“Of course.” He nodded, and Svenik, who sat in the back, echoed this sentiment.

“Where are the others?” she asked as he pulled his dory up alongside the ship and tossed up a rope to tie on.

“The other dory is headed for the island in case survivors made it to shore.”

Sereia nodded. “I’ll see you back on ship, gentlemen, and hopefully some survivors.”

There had to be someone left. They had gone somewhere. Hopefully they had managed to escape to the island just beyond the ship.

Once Sereia was back in the water, she used her abilities to once more to carry her across the water and back to The Saorsa. Travion’s linen shirt clung uncomfortably to her form in a less than concealing manner, and her side threatened to buckle her knees. But satisfied that there was nothing else for her to do, Sereia let herself lean against the railing, breathing heavily.

Boots shuffled across the deck, drawing closer. Someone leaned next to her and sighed heavily. “What was that about not rushing into a battle any time soon?”

Sereia peered up through the strands of her wet hair to gaze over at Travion. “That was a recommendation for you, and there’s no battle. Just putting out some fires. Captain’s duty and all that.” She tried to make light of it, but truth be told, her heart ached as badly as her side did.

How long would it take for Tribonik to heal from the pain The Creaturae had brought to its shores?

He simply shook his head at her, and an indiscernible expression flickered in his eyes. ‘Might I say, captain, your affinity is rather impressive to watch.’

His words surprised her. He didn’t lecture her, only teased, and if she weren’t mistaken, pride glimmered in his eyes.

‘Take care of yourself, we’ve got this for now.’ He nodded and stepped away from her to join the rest of her crew.

Nodding, Sereia waited until she passed him before her hand went back to her side. She rather wished she was still in the cool water, letting it ease the sting of her aching body. Once in her cabin, she stripped out of the wet clothes, moving cautiously to avoid aggravating her ribs further, and grabbed a towel to begin drying herself off. She pulled on a dry pair of breeches and a shirt of her own, then braided her hair quickly to keep it out of the way.

Nothing was worth the hassle of tugging boots on at this moment. She longed to drop down in bed, but there were survivors to oversee, and hopefully a captain to locate.

Back out on deck, the first dory had returned, and injured men were being hoisted up onto The Saorsa. Sereia stepped up beside Travion, and his one good arm, not bound up in a sling, naturally wrapped around her lower back, his hand coming to rest on her hip. Accepting the touch, she leaned into his side, feeling the weariness of her body even more.

“They managed to sever one of the kraken’s tentacles,” she murmured to Travion as they watched the haggard men drop down to the deck in exhaustion.

Their clothes were torn, sandy, and singed. Some were relatively whole, while others looked to be bloodied and beaten. Sereia was happy to see Chailai was already making her way through them, a small notepad and charcoal in hand as she triaged the injuries and noted the supplies she would need from below. Finn and Yon were working together to stop the bleeding on some of the worst ones, while Yannik and Xiu helped each new survivor brought aboard find a place to sit.

“So, it’s both injured and pissed,” Travion finally muttered back.

“True. But the key word there is ‘injured.’” She looked up at him, and Travion peered down at her in agreement.

“Captain.” It was Adrik. “The second dory is arriving. We have the last of the men that survived the wreck. Those on Speedwell are prolonging their search farther down the coast of the island, they’ll send a seahawk if they discover anyone else.”

“Where is the body Yannik brought back from the ship?” she asked softly, not wanting to disturb any of the crew around them.

“It’s currently in Chailai’s quarters.”

“Can you see to it that it is wrapped appropriately, and the sooner the better. I don’t want any of his crew members to have to see him in the state he’s in. Once their injuries have been dealt with, we can ask how they would like to handle his burial.”

Adrik nodded in understanding.

“Please assign any deckhands not out on a dory to aid Chailai with whatever she needs. We’ll make our way to the nearest port. While I figure out our new heading, hunt down the captain of the fishing boat, if he is still living, and send him to my cabin.”

Her first mate nodded, then headed off to do just that. Sereia looked at Travion and nodded at her cabin. “Come . . . There’s not much either of us can do out here.”

Travion cast a look around them, and she knew that a part of him wanted to stay out here and oversee it all. He preferred to have all the information there was to be had rather than wait. But with his own healing shoulder and an arm that was bound, he wasn’t any more use to these injured people than she would be.

Together, they headed back into the cabin. After retrieving her octant and spending some time measuring the stars, Sereia lowered herself carefully into her chair and sighed roughly. Before her, she spread out one of her maps, and after some quick calculation of their location from the stars, she tapped her finger over a small unnamed island. Picking up a paperweight shaped like a boat, she set it down near the island.

Travion came to stand behind her, studying their current position.

“I know you wished to see Novgor for yourself, but with the injured men on board I’m afraid we will need to make our way to the nearest port instead.” Sereia looked up at him, but his eyes were on the map.

“The living come before the dead. It’s more important to get these men back to land.” He reached over her, tapping a finger on the map.

Her eyes drifted to the port he was indicating—Darsgaard—where once she had stabbed a wealthy man’s son for forcing himself upon one of her crew. No one had cared about the harm done to a pirate, not when a rich benefactor’s beloved child lay dying. Sereia had barely escaped with her own life, and had it not been for the backup and support of both Yon and Adrik, she may not have.

“Seems to be the closest,” he muttered. “We could be there in a few hours.”

“It is,” she replied. “But The Saorsa can’t sail into Darsgaard.” Travion’s brow lifted as he looked down at her. “I’m not highly appreciated in those ports,” was all she was going to say on the matter.

“I’m sure there is a tale worth hearing behind that reason, and perhaps one day you’ll tell me. Over a tankard and horrendous sea ballads.”

Her eyes skimmed the coast of Tribonik, then she rested her finger next to another port situated on the island of Propentri. “Saventi will be our safest bet.” It was a small coastal village, rather impoverished and desperately in need of new leadership, but it would at least get the survivors from the fishing craft on land. And if they were truly lucky, there would be a fae healer resting at port.

Before he could respond, there was a knock at her cabin door.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened, and a man she did not recognize stood in her doorway. Gray hair was shorn at the sides of his head and grew only a little longer on top. Along his jaw was a thick white beard. His left eye had been wounded, a deep gouge running along the length of that side of his face. The blood had dried enough that it was no longer flowing, but the wound was red and angry and would certainly need some of Chailai’s poultice.

“I am Captain Zaitsev, and I must thank you for rescuing my crew.” He was gruff and burly, with the look of a man who spent most of his days out in the sun upon the waters.

“Welcome aboard, Zaitsev.” From the drawer of her desk, she pulled out three of her crystal tumblers and a spare bottle of rum that Adrik hadn’t confiscated from her yet. “I’m Captain Ferox.” She motioned a hand to the chair across from her desk. Then she looked up to Travion, who had straightened up, crossing his good arm beneath his wounded one. “And this is my compatriot . . . Lord Trask.” He squinted at her but made no move to correct her.

There was no telling who all Zaitsev would talk to once he was in Saventi, and until they knew who they were up against, it was best not to risk the knowledge of Travion’s presence spreading along the coast.

Zaitsev took the offered seat and accepted the tumbler of rum gratefully. He drank down a good half of it before he settled back into his chair.

Sereia slid Travion’s glass over to him, then relaxed in her seat, hiding the way her side twinged and throbbed with the movement. By the sea—forget a couple drops of Chailai’s tincture, she was going to bathe in a tub of it. The gulp of rum burning down her throat helped.

“What happened out there?” she asked.

“It came out of nowhere.” Zaitsev’s eyes grew distant as he returned to that moment on the water. “The sea was calm, and then it was bubbling. The ship started to rock, and we knew something was coming. We’re a fishing vessel . . . not a battleship, but—” He shook his head and gulped more rum.

Seeing his glass was empty, Sereia leaned forward, offering him more. Extending his glass, he allowed her to top it up. “But what?” she encouraged.

“We brought harpoons just in case.” His harrowed eyes met hers across the expanse of the desk. “We’ve all heard stories.”

Sereia nodded. It didn’t take long for the tragedies of the sea to carry from one port to the next. “And that didn’t stop you from setting out?”

“A man has got to make money to live. Fish are what feeds my family and my crew.”

Sereia could only nod once again. When all a man knew was the water, what else was there to do but keep heading out on it despite the dangers that lay ahead. They all took risks. Storms. Assailants. Starvation. Fear kept none of them home. “It was bigger than we could have imagined.” He shook his head, continuing. “It wrapped itself around the bow and was trying to drag us down. We shot harpoons . . . thought that would kill it.” His voice drifted off a little as his eyes grew distant, and he appeared to be lost in studying the contents of his glass. At long last, he gulped more rum, then continued. “It didn’t die. The harpoons just made it roaring mad, and it thrashed about in the sea like a drowning man. The harpoons were attached to the ship . . . a catch like that—”

“Would have made you rich,” Sereia finished for him.

“It wasn’t what we were out here for, but tithes have increased at home, and the boys are all near starving. I just wanted—” His voice cracked, and he brought a hand up to cover his face, fighting tears.

Sereia felt a twinge of pain for the broken man. He and his crew were in need; he’d wanted only to line all of their pockets to help keep the strain off. “All any of us can do is try,” she said, trying to soothe him.

The captain nodded, brushing the back of his hand across his nose. “It started swimming, pulling the ship along with it until we were dragged into that cropping of rocks. After that, it forced its way through the holes in the hull. My first mate managed to harpoon a tentacle to the bottom of the boat. Blasted thing just . . . ripped it off and kept coming for us. There didn’t seem to be any way off the boat but to set it ablaze and pray we made it to shore.”

Sereia watched him finish his second glass of rum, then finished her own. She remembered what it had been like to watch the kraken go for one ship and then come directly for her own. There had been great fear inside her when she’d thought her crew was going to follow the path of the Ackazanti and sink beneath the waves.

“I found a body in the hull of your ship,” she said carefully.

He cleared his throat against tears. “Alixandre, my first mate. After he harpooned the beast, it caught him with another tentacle.” His voice broke, and he could not continue.

“He’s below. Do you wish for him to be buried at sea, or would you prefer he go home?”

“He has a wife and kids,” Zaitsev said, voice hoarse. “She’ll want to bury him.”

Sereia nodded. “Then we’ll take him home.” She glanced at Travion, his face stern and contemplative. “Should we assume it will react the same way as an octopus would at losing a limb?”

“My best guess would be yes. I don’t think this will slow it down any.”

Sighing, Sereia leaned forward on her desk, looking at the fisherman once more. “I’m sorry about your ship, and your first mate. I know as a captain, the last thing you want is to lose one of your sea family.” Her eyes fell to her desk for a moment, and once again she thought about her own crew and the risk they were all taking because of her. “I appreciate you sharing your tale with us, I know it wasn’t easy.” She looked back up at him. “Go, join your crew below and get some food in you. By mid-afternoon, we’ll be in Saventi.”

“Saventi? That’s not where—” Sereia cut him off with a look. “Appreciated.” Captain Zaitsev stood up, giving them both a nod.

When he was gone, Sereia slumped back with a deep moan, pressing a hand to her side. “That thing is relentless. And it just keeps leaving so much devastation in its wake.”

Travion’s hand was suddenly brushing strands of hair back from her face, a gentle, soothing touch. As she looked up at him, his fingers slipped beneath her jaw. “You’re not blaming yourself for this, are you?”

Her heart clenched, and for a moment, Sereia let herself accept the comfort he was offering. Let the weight of her responsibility leave her and simply focused on the understanding in his eyes. He bore the weight of an entire kingdom. He knew.

“If I had just stayed to kill it then . . .”

“You may have succeeded, and you may have died.”

“I won’t flee next time.” She kept her eyes locked with his. “I meant it when I said I would face this with you.” When they had first met, she was nothing but a young maiden full of rebellion and dreams. Now, Sereia possessed experience. Hard earned and respected.

Travion nodded, his fingers curling around her jaw and up into the hair at the back of her head. “And I value your help. But we still don’t know how to kill this bloody beast.”

“There’s got to be something that can be done.” Sereia slammed her fist down on the desk, which sent a ricochet of pain from her ribs all the way through her chest, like a tight fist wrapping around her middle. She gasped, unable to keep it in.

Travion grumbled and straightened up. He moved across the cabin to grab up the vial of pain medicine Chailai had given him and brought it to her.

“Take it,” he demanded.

Not having the desire to argue with him, Sereia accepted the vial and released several drops beneath her tongue.

Travion was eyeing her, a frown on his face. “Why did you go?” he growled, clearly still upset she’d headed off into the waters alone.

Sereia smirked up at him, feeling the faint line of cold sweat along her hairline. “So you wouldn’t.” She released a dark laugh, wincing. “Would you mind fetching Boran for me please? I’d like to tell him where we’re headed, and I don’t think I can move just yet.” The admission cost her a lot. Vulnerability was a despised trait on the sea, and Sereia hated showing it. But if she was going to trust anyone with it, shouldn’t it be Travion?

Shutting her eyes, Sereia wondered if she could perhaps sleep in her chair.