Page 54 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

Bang.

Kora bolted from beneath her woollen blanket, tufts of hay clinging to her sticky leathers.

Bang. Bang.

She scanned her surroundings. She was still in her cage. The cyclone winds had settled. It was still night.

Shadows lingered everywhere in the spiral dungeon, interspersed with sombre, red light from wooden torches. Yet her cell remained in perpetual, cold darkness. Prisoners weren’t allowed torches behind their bars, and after the first couple days in bleak lighting, her eyes had slowly adapted to the blanketed night.

Bang.

Creeping around her den, she cautiously approached the bars of her cell. The cyclone winds didn’t normally sound like that. They sounded like a ferocious roar, followed by the rattling of chains, creaking of bars, and the cries of prisoners as they froze to death.

She rubbed her hands together, blowing hot breath into them, keeping her blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she crouched near the bars, peering into the doomed spiral.

“Over here!”

Two dark-armoured guards hurtled past, racing up the spiralled walkway, and she tracked their movements like a predator. Something was happening—something big. Her spine tingled. Had Galen arrived already? Had the war begun?

If the war was happening, she needed to escape immediately.

More guards ascended the spiral, lances and swords gripped in their hands as they yelled to each other. She was roughly ten cells from the top of the spiral, which connected to a stoned staircase leading to the barracks.

“Attack!”

Her heart pounded. Galen must be here. She quickly scoured the only area she could see—no sign of any guards. They had all abandoned their posts for the battle above. She reached through the bars, picturing the ocean of death in her mind’s eye looming at the base.

Summoning the water, her teeth clenched as sweat trickled down the side of her face. Her shoulder stung, but she delved deeper, reaching for her water beast, coaxing it to the surface with the promise of revenge.

Prisoners below screamed, followed by the slosh of water against stone. Ocean waves roared through her ears, and she released one, long, excruciating yell as the pain in her shoulder shot down her arm. It wrapped around her fingers, trying to force her to stop, but she braced against it, her eyes brimming with pained tears as water trickled up the spiral.

It was mediocre compared to what she’d been able to conjure before—but it was enough. Even if it nearly broke her, she would save herself.

As water slithered up the bars of the cell, shaping into a key and reaching the sludge-crusted lock, a figure dropped in front of her cell, and Kora fell backwards with a violent shudder. She frantically scrambled through the waste away from whatever fresh hell she was about to experience.

“Kora! It’s me!”

The door to her cell swung open, and Erick strode in, racing towards her.

“Erick . . .?”

Shock consumed her.

“Come, we don’t have much time.”

Aryn emerged behind him, his longbow gripped tightly in his hands. Blood splattered his youthful face, stark against the black tattoo on his cheek.

“I was just breaking myself out—before you interrupted.”

Aryn wryly smiled.

“I’m glad your humour’s still intact.”

Leaping to her feet, she swayed from malnourishment and, as Erick steadied her, he wrapped a black cloak around her shaking body. Verbal apologies swept over Kora as he clasped his arms around her tingling skin and her limbs weakened. He had defied the empire . . . for her.

“I’m sorry,”

he repeated.

“I couldn’t get here sooner. I tried everything. That bastard Barron!”

“Go now. Chat later.”

Aryn motioned to them, and he averted his gaze from Erick as Kora followed Aryn, his slender frame brimming with tensity.

“Where’s Sam?”

She exhaled shakily as she stepped onto the walkway.

Bang.

Aryn glanced up, soil and vines raining around them.

“He’s giving us some time.”

It wasn’t the war—it was her crew.

“Hurry!”

Erick yanked her in his direction—down the spiral walkway.

“What? Where are we going? We need to get Sam!”

Neither male answered as they propelled down the walkway, Erick leading from the front, and Aryn covering the rear as always. The spiral was empty. Whatever Samuel was doing was causing enough commotion for the guards to abandon their posts.

Good gods.

“It’s her!”

Prisoners in the cells clanked their metal cups against their bars. Their voices crying out in anguish as Kora barrelled past.

“It’s the pirate-hunter!”

Her stomach twisted. It had never crossed her mind that some of the pirates and rebels she’d sentenced over the years would have ended up here, a place worse than Deadwater Prison—and survived.

“Oi! You!”

“You ruined me life!”

“Stop that wench!”

“You’re a filthy rebel like the rest of us!”

The voices swirled around in her mind, merging with the courtier’s slander when Barron had paraded her around the castle. Gods, that must’ve been over a week ago.

“Don’t listen to them,”

Aryn hissed as they raced to the bottom.

The cyclone winds were strong down here, and their cloaks forcefully whipped around them. Kora’s skin stung from the bitter harshness. If she’d been sentenced to one of these cells at the bottom, she’d have died that first night.

Erick led them to a small, stone platform connected to the base of the spiral walkway. It was so dark down here, and the torches sputtered out from the winds. She sucked in a tense breath as a single guard turned to face them on the platform.

Shit. They’d been caught. Every muscle recoiled on instinct, reaching to grip her sabre daggers—but her hands snagged on thin air.

One dagger had been shattered to pieces . . . the other had been stolen.

The guard was covered head to toe in sheep’s wool, packed beneath his armour. Leathers covered every inch of flesh—in between the metal plates—on his wrists and joints, and wrapped around his head like a fuzzy blanket.

“You’re late,”

the guard mumbled through his protective wrap.

“We were held up,”

Erick snapped, hiding Kora behind him.

“You know my fee.”

Erick’s hands flicked to his belt and froze. With a curse, he patted around his waist in a flurry before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“What’s going on?”

Aryn stepped forward.

“I lost it—the payment. We were ambushed on the way down here. They’ve sliced right through my belt.”

“Ironic,”

Aryn muttered.

“Not now!”

Erick barked.

What in Umbra was going on?

Kora peered through the darkness, to really look at Erick. Blood soaked his clothes and clung to his hair. His gold-and-malachite pommelled sword was gripped in one shaking hand, and his armour was dented. Only something incredibly strong could do that. His cloak was shredded, along with a thin cut along his neck that was crusted with blood.

“What happened?”

she whispered.

“Where’s Sam?”

No one acknowledged her.

“No payment, no boat,”

the guard grunted.

“We made a deal,”

Aryn snarled, and she startled.

“I deal in money. I can easily lock you all up instead. You wouldn’t survive the night.”

“We can’t go without Sam!”

Kora shrieked. Panic bubbled inside, until it grabbed her in a chokehold.

“We can’t leave Sam, Theron, or Ivar!”

She didn’t deserve this. Everything they were sacrificing to free her from the spiral dungeons. Her life wasn’t worth three lives. Did they even want to defy the empire? It baffled her to be chosen over something they’d all devoted their lives to and bowed their loyalty to for years—or their entire lives, in Erick’s case.

She was nothing. Nobody. A pity case.

“Kora . . . Sam made his choice.”

Aryn’s hooded eyes saddened, and her heart clenched inside her throat.

“We can’t find the others. We need to leave now. Sam’s giving us this one shot.”

“No . . . I don’t want him to do that! Don’t let him do that. I’m . . . I’m nothing. I’m not worth it. They’ll kill him!”

The ocean sprayed up against the stone platform and Erick warily glanced at it.

“You’re worth everything,”

Erick replied with confidence.

“Samuel stayed behind to give us a chance.”

Us.

“You’re not going anywhere without payment.”

The guard raised a silver-tapped lance.

Erick raised his sword in return, and Aryn advanced with his longbow.

More death. More loss. It was too much.

“Wait!”

Kora stumbled forward, fishing out a token from her leathers. She offered her open palm to the guard, the small gold doubloon perched on top. The guard gingerly picked it up, turning it over in his gloved hand and inspecting it intently. His eyes widened as he pocketed the coin, and he glanced at her curiously.

“Where’d you get this? It’s very old.”

“I found it. Is it enough?”

“Aye.”

Thank the gods.

They all exhaled simultaneously as the guard led them to a secret passage tucked around the corner from the platform. Carved into the jagged cliff, the tunnel’s walls were slick with ocean spray, and smelled like rusted stone. Vines snaked across the curve, delving and twisting into the cracks and dips of the stone, winding around stalactites on the ceiling.

After what felt like an eternity, they emerged out onto a hidden bank of boulders and moss, at the base of the leering cliff. Seaweed clung to the balustrades of domed platforms built into the side, all the way to the top. An outpost that’d been abandoned since the Galenite War. Kora craned her head back and looked up to the beacon of the Citadel at the top—and a raging fire.

“You set fire to the Citadel!”

There would be no coming back from this. They’d be hanged if they were caught.

Aryn followed her gaze.

“It was Sam’s idea. He set a timed explosion with the kegs in the barracks. Leading towards the castle, and away from the dungeons.”

“Sam blew up grog?”

she squeaked, bewildered. Pride flitted through her, but was quickly replaced with dread. An all-consuming dread of what the empire would do to Samuel.

The ocean was calmer here, waves lapping against the bank and the air was completely still. No cyclone winds, no biting cold roaring and slicing her skin. The quiet seemed loud.

“You never saw us,”

Erick muttered to the guard as they hurried to the small pinnace boat with a ripped sail.

“Aye. I best be off—”

BOOM.

Rocks rained around them, smashing into the mossy bank, and Erick sprinted, shielding Kora with his armour as shouts rang above. The guard pelted into the secret tunnel.

“THEY’RE ESCAPING!”

he cried as he vanished.

Warm light blossomed from the varying outpost platforms, and the dread coiled in Kora’s gut threatened to expand, snaking into her limbs, freezing her in place. They’d found her. They’d drag her kicking and screaming back to those slimy cells.

An ocean wave crested, tugging at her, beckoning her to leap into the sea.

“We need to go! Kora, move!”

Erick pulled on her arm but she was rooted to the spot. Frozen in fear as the light burned brighter, bouncing off the slick wetness of the stalagmites.

“What are you doing!”

Aryn grabbed her other arm, but she couldn’t move.

And just like that, a blonde head of hair appeared.

“Sam . . .”

she whispered.

Both males stilled, whipping their gazes in Samuel’s direction, where he stood behind a balustrade halfway up the cliff.

“He’s going to make it,”

Aryn breathed.

“Sam! Jump!”

But Samuel wasn’t moving. Blood smattered the side of his face and his clothes. He limped as he waved a thick arm, and a sob tore from her chest.

“Go!”

Samuel bellowed, and darted back into the outpost, the flickering of torches and cries of guards following him.

“Now!”

Aryn yanked on her arm, nearly dislocating her shoulder.

“He’s distracting them!”

“No!”

she cried, as she collapsed onto the single deck. Aryn wrapped a second cloak around her from where it had been stashed in the boughs of the boat, as Erick began frantically rowing. She didn’t realise she was shivering.

“I’m so sorry,”

she whispered to the winds, as they rowed away from Talmon Island. Away from her ship, her crew, and her missing talisman.

Fires engulfed the horizon, burning the fortress into cinders. Somewhere, deep inside, Samuel, Theron, and Ivar were suffering.

And she had abandoned them.