Sora wished something would move, even if it was the monster. She just wanted to know what was happening, to break the horrible tension. The rain continued to pound. She listened with all of her might; she felt as though her ears were slowly separating from her head, she was straining so hard.
Then, dimly, barely above the rain, she heard the sound of boots treading on hollow wood. Thunk... thunk... thunk....
A figure formed out of the storm. A crow hovered above him, drifting in the rain like a strange banner. Swaying from side to side, bent almost double, Sora still thought he was the most beautiful sight in the world.
Crash stepped slowly and softly off the plank, into the light of the ship's lanterns. At first she thought he would walk right past her, without even sparing her a glance. But then he paused at her side. His eyes were trained on the wood beneath them, the expression on his face unreadable.
"It's dead," he said. His voice was cold, without inflection. It made the tiny hairs on her arms rise.
She gazed at him in silence, unsure of what to say. “Thank you” seemed close to ludicrous.
Crash let his head drop another notch and a shudder ran through his body. Then he closed the small gap between them. She stiffened, surprised. Slowly, unexpectedly, he laid his forehead against her shoulder. His breath was hot through the damp cloth of her shirt.
Neither moved for a long moment—a moment in which Sora thought she would completely crumble. She had never felt such worry, such panic, over another human being.
Then Crash said quietly, "You're shaking."
Of course I'm shaking! she wanted to scream, but she didn't want to tell him why. Dammit, Sora, be strong!
He stood up a little straighter, then slowly pulled her into his shirt and released a long, silent breath into her damp hair. Enveloped by his warmth, she couldn't think, stunned by the show of emotion. Perhaps... perhaps I am finally seeing beneath the mask.
"Are you going to cry again?" he asked, and she could hear humor in his voice. Of all things!
"Warriors don't cry," she whispered brokenly. And if she did let a few tears slip out, it was purely from exhaustion, and well-hidden by the wind, rain, and Crash's thick shirt.
He held her like that, motionless, for what Sora felt was a long time, though it was probably more like five minutes. She didn't want to move away; she liked the strength of his arms, his height, his scent. He burned like a slow fire, hot-blooded.
"Well, we should tell Jacques to set sail," she finally whispered. It was a nice position to be in, but it couldn't last forever, and there were still many things to do. She started to pull away, then paused when he didn't move.
"Crash?" she said. His arms stayed tight around her, almost too tight. After listening to his shallow breathing, she knew something was wrong. "Crash?" she repeated, alarmed, and pulled her head out of his shirt. His eyes were half-closed and his breathing was far too shallow. "Hello?" Still no response.
She jerked backward in sudden fear. His grip loosened and his body slumped to one side, almost toppling them both. She gasped as she caught his weight. "Crash!"
Sora laid him down on the deck and stepped back. Disbelief crept over her face. No, no, this isn't happening! she thought desperately. Crash can't be hurt, it's not possible! The only other time she had seen him like this was ages ago, while they were crossing the swamp and he had almost drowned.
The wind picked up. Sora felt something warm and sticky on her shirt. Looking down, she stared in horror.
Blood.
The whole front of her shirt was soaked in blood, deep crimson, almost black in the firelight, and still warm. She didn't know what to do at first; her mind couldn't quite grasp what she was seeing. Then she opened her mouth in horror.
"Jacques!" she yelled. "Tristan, Joan, Laina!" Then, filling her lungs with an impossibly deep breath, she screamed, "Burn!"
Now is no time to panic! her inner voice screamed. She dropped to her knees and looked at the assassin's face. His eyes were closed, his skin pale. She ran her hands over his body and found the wound in his side, a shallow gash where the Kraken's teeth had snagged him. Without hesitation, she ripped his shirt open and gazed at the bloody skin. The area around the wound was red and puffy, tinged with black. Poison.
She heard the thrum of feet against wood. "Burn!” she called, recognizing his footsteps. “He's hurt!"
The giant Wolfy dropped down next to her. He took only a moment to gauge the situation. Then he grabbed the assassin and lifted him up, as easily as one would lift a child.
"We need to get him inside,” the Wolfy said firmly. “This cold weather won't do him any good."
“What about the poison? What if it spreads?”
“There has to be an antidote on board,” he replied. Sora couldn't tell how certain he was; his face was like stone. “If they went to the trouble of catching that creature, they must have come prepared....”
"What is that?" Jacques' voice rang out from somewhere above her, high on the rigging.
"It's Crash, he's hurt!" Sora choked, but the Dracian cut her off.
"No, those lights!" he pointed.
Sora glanced distractedly over the side of the ship, then stared. Several dozen golden lights had appeared silently on the docks below, bobbing up and down as if suspended in thin air.
Then Tristan appeared. He ran over to the plank, heaving the long slab of wood up onto the ship as though it were made of paper. Sora was stunned by his strength.
Suddenly, there was a massive burst of light from below. Sparks flew high into the sky as a large pyre was lit, illuminating the entire dock. What she saw in the new light was not reassuring.
The entire city guard force stood below, their flickering eyes trained on her and her friends. The Captain was in front. Sora breathed slowly in amazement. They must have arrived while the Kraken was loose and then hung back in the shadows, waiting for the chance to strike. Cowards!
Somewhere behind her, she heard Jacques' exasperated voice. "Damn it all, do they ever sleep? Tristan, close the rail and get away from there, we're leaving! Hear that, boys? Raise anchor!"
"Jacques, I know you're up there," drifted the silky, arrogant voice of the Captain of the Guard. Sora recognized it from the previous day. "Why don't you surrender now and make it easy on yourself? I might even cut your sentence."
Jacques moved to the railing and yelled heartily, "Not a chance in hell, you pompous bastard!"
Then he threw a hard oval object at the docks below. Sora watched as it struck the dock, then exploded in a blast of mist and smoke. Jacques let out a loud whoop of triumph just as the ship groaned and rocked, floating away from the docks.
Then Tristan was standing at the rail. "Better luck next time, Cap'n!” he yelled. “We'll miss you!"
"We'll try to write!”
"Don't forget us!"
All of the Dracians began calling out, hanging from the deck and rigging alike, whistling and laughing. Smoke still covered the docks, and Sora doubted any of the soldiers could see them. She wanted to be amused, she truly did... but she bit her lip instead, irritated by all the noise.
Crash was injured. She turned away and looked around for Burn, but he had disappeared, taking the assassin with him. Fear raised its ugly head, and she began to look for them, trotting off into the darkness of the vessel.
The ship was massive. Sora scrambled down a staircase, below deck, out of the rain. It was lit by a few dim lanterns. The cabins stretched on and on, but it only took a minute before she bumped into the mercenary. He was exiting a room a few doors down the starboard side.
"How is he?" she said as she rushed up to him.
Burn looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. "I wouldn't worry your head about it. Crash is... very resilient." He gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Why don't you get some rest? I'm going to search through the supplies to see if there is an antidote."
Sora opened her mouth in protest. Rest? How can I rest with Crash wounded? It
seemed careless, selfish, absolutely irresponsible.... “No,” she started, “I need to help!”
“You won't be any help if you can't even keep your eyes open,” Burn said. “You've had a long day... or have you forgotten the wraith?”
It seemed Burn knew her body better than she did. As if summoned by his words, a wave of exhaustion hit her, as forceful as the rolling ship. She staggered, the adrenaline draining out of her, and Burn caught her easily.
“Maybe... maybe you're right,” she said, her muscles suddenly weak and sore. He nodded, his eyes gentle and quietly sympathetic. Then she staggered towards the long row of cabins with his strong arms assisting her, barely able to move her own feet.
Chapter 18
Sora woke up in an incredibly small room; a patchwork quilt had been thrown over her. The room swayed back and forth in a disquieting manner, but that wasn't what had awakened her. There was a rather loud argument going on; it seemed to be coming from the deck above her room.
Although she couldn't quite make out what was being said, she could hear Burn's deep baritone rumbling like thunder and Jacques' tenor trumpeting back at him. Two of the voices were female; so she assumed that Joan and Laina were there too, along with Tristan and a few others.
Yawning, Sora climbed peevishly to her feet and made her way into the hall without bothering to put on her boots. Hearing the rain pounding against the deck, she followed the sound to the staircase, and climbed straight out into the bad weather.
Immediately she was hit with a blast of cold wind. Whoa! Tiny bits of ice were mixed in with the rain, clattering against the deck before melting into the wood. She momentarily considered crawling back to her cabin, but curiosity pushed her further out into the pounding hail. She shivered as her feet touched the slick, icy deck.
The room above hers seemed much further away than it should be; between the ship tossing back and forth and the cascading rain, Sora found herself bouncing between wall and rail, trying to maintain her balance. She could see light spilling from a porthole ahead of her. The rolling motion of the ship almost knocked her over, until finally she was able to reach the cabin's door and turn the handle. She dragged open the heavy old door, then stepped into the room.
There was an immediate silence.
Sora stared at the bright lanterns that were swinging crazily overhead. It appeared to be the Captain's cabin, with desks and chairs scattered about, nailed to the floor to counter the movement of the ship. The walls were plain wood, except the one on her left, where several maps had been nailed up.
The cabin's population turned to stare back at her.
Burn's mouth hung open in mid-sentence. Jacques looked flushed and tense. There was Laina, the girl's eyes as wide as saucers, and Joan, who smirked in amusement, her leg wrapped in a tight bandage from heel to thigh. Tristan, André and several other Dracians stood at the back of the room, observing the argument. The group watched silently as she shut the door. The only sound was the hail hitting the window.
Sora had the distinct impression that she wasn't supposed to be there. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.
"Nothing's wrong," Jacques said quickly. "We were just deciding the best course to take."
"Oh," she said, oddly numb. She frowned. "And what course is that?"
"Well, with the storm this bad...."
"How could you not tell her?" Laina suddenly broke in.
Tristan nudged the girl hard with his shoulder, a strained smile on his face. Then he turned to look at Burn. The giant Wolfy stared at Tristan, then at Sora, but he didn't say anything.
"Where is Crash?" she asked abruptly.
"Resting, I should think...." started Jacques.
"Don't trouble yourself, dear," Joan said.
"I shouldn't think he's that bad, eh, Burn?" Tristan added to the confusion.
"North by northeast,” Jacques continued, pointing to the wall behind him, where the largest map was pinned. “Away from the eye of the storm.”
"Yes, but can we outrun the weather?” Joan called.
"Where is Crash?" Sora asked again, slower and a bit more loudly. The turmoil of voices came to a halt. The Dracians looked at each other in embarrassment; finally Burn stood up. He motioned to the chair he had been occupying.
"Would you like to sit down?" he offered.
Sora didn't remember agreeing, but suddenly she found herself seated, maneuvered to the chair by the firm roll of the ship. She glared up at Burn, wondering what he was keeping from her.
"Tell me," she growled.
"Sora...." He scratched his ear in an agitated manner.
“Just say it.”
His eyes turned away. He let out a long, slow sigh. "We couldn't find an antidote.”
Sora waited. It took a long moment for his words to sink in. “Then...?”
“He's alive... but the wound is worsening,” Burn ended reluctantly. Sora realized he was trying to protect her from the truth about Crash, but it was still annoying. How was she supposed to help if she didn't know the problem? She pulled in a tight breath, her mind racing for a solution. Worsening by the minute... and there were few of the right supplies on board for her to use.
“Aye,” Joan added. “He isn't a Dracian like me. The poison is deadly to humans. We need to draw it out... but none of us are Healers.”
"His cut is deep and needs to be stitched,” Burn added quietly. He watched Sora, waiting for a response.
The room was enveloped in an awkward, suffocating silence. Sora put her head in her hand, trying to think clearly. I should have brought some Healing remedies.... Her mother had taught her a few small things, but without the right supplies, her knowledge was useless. She should have prepared for this. The sailors had unloaded most of their cargo from the ship, and probably the antidote with it, if there had ever been one. Maybe there are still a few things left on board. Mint was easy enough to find, and sweetgrass and redroot. She could at least treat the infection....
This is all because I'm weak, she thought suddenly, guilt roiling in her stomach. If she had handled the Kraken like she was supposed to... not given in to her fear....
Finally, she blinked her eyes and took a deep breath. “I know a few things about Healing,” she said.
There was a brief pause. “What?” Burn asked.
“Well, I'm not a sworn Healer per se, but my mother taught me some things. Let me see him. I've drawn poison out before....” But never a Kraken's poison. She had only worked on a few snake bites and a scorpion sting, once. “And I can stitch him up."
Burn stared at her for a long minute. Then a slow smile spread across his face. “My,” he said quietly. “And to think, a year ago you couldn't shine a shoe. Learning a Healer's trade.... Dorian would be proud.”
Sora blushed, then grinned slightly. “You know what he would say?”
Burn's eyes glinted. “What?”
“She shows potential!”
The Wolfy laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder, his ears twitching. It was a good moment. Sora could remember those words on Dorian's lips; he had said them often, when she had first learned to use her staff. She laughed as much as she could at the memory, then shook her head and glanced around the room. By the looks she and Burn were getting, the Dracians thought they were crazy.
“There's no time to waste,” she said quickly. “Take me to him!”
“Right,” Burn said. He held out his hand and helped her to her feet, balancing her against the rocking motion of the ship. “Jacques, carry on, find that course for us and don't forget the map Crash gave you. We'll be back....”
Jacques nodded solemnly. As Sora got up, she looked around. Her eyes landed on Laina. “We'll need your help,” she said. “Can you fetch me several bowls, hot water, a needle and thread?”
The young girl nodded. Joan stood up as well, balancing on a wooden crutch. “I'll go with you,” she said, nodding to Laina. “No use getting lost on this big ship.”
Sora smiled gratefully, then addressed Tri
stan. “I don't know if there is an infirmary on board, but I'm assuming so. Bring me every herb, weed or pill you can find. And I'll need towels.”
Tristan nodded as well. He, Laina and Joan headed out the door, stumbling as the ship rocked from side to side.
Sora and Burn followed the three others out into the night. Burn waved to her over his shoulder. “His cabin is this way!” he called above the crashing ocean. The hail had stopped, but now fog was gathering beyond the railing, and the rain had turned to a stubborn drizzle. Swaying with each wave, Sora followed Burn closely, using his bulk as a shelter against the storm. She couldn't see anything in the pitch blackness, but obviously Burn could since he led her confidently around the side of the ship and down yet another set of stairs.
He stopped about four cabins down the hallway, swung open the door and hustled her inside. The swaying ship slammed the door shut behind them. Sora blinked. A dim lamp barely illuminated the room. The space, small and cramped like a walk-in closet, was mostly taken up by a wide, fluffy bed. The ceiling was so low, Burn had to bend almost double to walk around the room. Even Sora was close to hitting her head on the ceiling.
A figure rested quietly in the large bed.
Feeling suddenly nauseous, Sora moved over to the bedside and looked down. Tentatively, she pulled back the covers to look at Crash's face. Although she couldn't see clearly in the dim light, he appeared pale and drawn.
"Burn, get the lights on," she hissed quietly, and paused as he lit two or three more lanterns, hanging them from the ceiling. She looked at Crash's face again, and her former observations were confirmed. His skin was unnaturally white, beaded with pearls of sweat, and his eyes were clamped shut. Gently, she placed her hand on his clammy forehead; heat radiated from his skin.
The moment Sora's palm touched his forehead, the assassin seemed to relax. The stiff lines on his face eased. His mouth moved as if he was saying something, and she leaned forward, wondering if he was conscious after all....
The door opened and closed. Laina rushed in, a wide reel of pink thread in her hand, along with a small box that looked like a sewing kit. Tristan was right on their heels with a large basket of herbs and dried plants. Sora spotted several dark bottles mixed in with the herbs, and a pile of towels stuffed under his shirt, apparently to keep them dry. Joan couldn't fit in the room, so she waved briefly through the doorway, placing a jug of water just inside the door. Then she hobbled out of sight down the long, dark walkway.