“I’ll be okay, and from what I’ve seen, you are perfectly capable of fighting.” Larkin nudges me and bounds toward the front deck, gathering a few men of his choosing to join him at the front of the boat.
Larkin shouts over his shoulder, “Just yell which boat I should go to when we’re ready.”
“Larkin,” I shout.
He turns his head toward me.
“Just fight, Briar, and don’t stop.”
My heart pounds against my ribs, and I clench my teeth.
The black ships sail toward us faster than the raging sea. The hollow sails whip in the whistling storm, and the growling grows in intensity, causing my senses to scream louder than the wind. Darcy angles the ship to fit right in the middle of both the haunting ships, giving Larkin and the men a straight shot to shift directly onto either deck, taking the creatures by surprise, while we quickly steer the boat directly into the other ship's side. Choosing which way we go will be a quick call at the last second.
“Steady,” Darcy chants, holding the helm firm and gritting his teeth. “Steady.”
We approach the black ships, and I nod to Larkin at the front of the vessel. I whip my head between both boats, unsure which one holds the most dangerous resurrected beings. The waves from all three ships crash together—like a storm of chaos—and sweat beads on my brow.
The resurrected beings aboard the ship stand motionless, like ghostly soldiers waiting for the bloodshed to begin.
I glance at the ship to the right and see numerous rotting heads—almost human, but altered. Their hollow eyes stare forward, uncaring about the ship close to them. They gaze only at the shore. I look at the ship to the left and see a nearly identical situation. Nothing about either boat stands out, and I can’t shake the unsettling feeling that courses through my system.
Darcy looks at me. “Queen, it’s time to make your call. Which boat?”
My heart thunders like the raging storm around us, and I can’t decide. I can’t choose, because something doesn’t feel right. I place my hand in my pocket and feel the stone’s vibration shoot through my veins in hopes it can point me in the rightdirection. In the turmoil surrounding us, I can’t decipher the feelings, as if my system and the stone are filled with madness.
“If he’s going, yell now, Briar,” Darcy’s hoarse voice shouts.
My hands tremble, and even the seconds seem to creep by. I suck in a breath.
“Left!” I scream toward Larkin, praying that wasn’t the wrong choice for either of us.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, he glances at me, a reassuring look painting his expression, and smiles wildly, vanishes with the group of warriors. I watch the white light turn to mist as it moves toward the left ship. My vision shifts right as Darcy turns the wheel as sharply as the ship will allow. The edge of the boat dips low into the water, and I brace myself against the side to avoid falling as the waves nearly crash onto the ship. Captain Darcy maintains a firm grip on the wheel, and I can hear the strain in his voice as he shouts orders to the men around him.
I keep my gaze fixed on the right ship, focusing my mind, body, and strength to keep fighting—to persevere—and to do whatever I can to save those around me. The ship of the resurrected beings comes into clear view, and I inhale sharply, preparing for the two ships to crash together.
“Prepare for the impact,” Darcy screams, and all the Wielders scramble to take cover—moving away from the edge, and grabbing hold of something—as we brace for the collision. I widen my stance and take the last deep breath I fear I may ever get.
The bow of the ship slams against the side of the enemy ship, and just like before, the wood splinters into pieces. Resurrected creatures scream into the night air and scramble to keep the water from reaching them. The crash jolts me, and I fly forward, landing on my chest against the deck. I slowly stand, catching my breath, and look back to ensure Darcy is alright after theblow. He gives me a shaky thumbs-up and unsheathes his sword. A look of madness alters his expression as he races forward, screaming into the air.
“Fight!” the Wielders yell in unison, and I grab both axes, moving forward through the rubble connecting the two ships.
I duck, spin, and sprint past the creatures, swiping my axe through their legs, arms, and abdomens—anywhere to slow them down for the Wielders coming up behind me. The coppery smell of blood fills my nose, and during my small breaks, I wipe my eyes coated with hot, dark liquid. I look at each passing being, desperate to find the Wielders steering the ship. The creatures are similar to the others on the ship—no difference in size, rage, or people—and I realize this isn’t the strongest ship.
I pause and glance toward the other ship, still moving toward the shore at a rapid pace. Screams echo into the night, and I know the others fight for their lives on that ship, severely outnumbered against resurrected Wielders and creatures.
For the first time, I say a prayer to Raddnoke that he protects Larkin from those beasts, and another surge of power leaves my body as I push all I have toward the creatures racing toward me. The Wielders work perfectly together around me, like an army of trained assassins.
A creature comes before me, and I pause, widening my stance. It is large, and I immediately know it was never originally human. It looks familiar, and I realize it’s a resurrected Figgawen—larger and more menacing than ever before.
The lanky beast drops to all fours and sizes me up. A wicked smile spreads across my face as I drop both arms beside me, wanting the creature to feel victorious in its perceived triumph over me. The creature lowers even further and licks its cracked, bleeding lips. Its hollow eyes stare into my soul, and I want nothing more than to send this resurrected fiend back to the darkest realm.
I step forward, and the creature freezes, lowering its head to the ground, as if bowing in respect to something else. Even without eyes, it seems to look at something or someone beyond me. My senses flare, and my veins bubble with darkness. Even in my loud surroundings, a voice snakes into my mind, sending me into a flood of panic.
“Turn around, Briar,” Kalix says, her voice sounding in my head—as if helping me in this moment. “Hurry.”
I keep one eye on the bowed creature and slowly turn amidst the chaos. My mouth drops open, and one of my axes clangs to the ground from the shock that rattles my very soul.
Nolan Harte stands a few feet behind me.
