XI. THE STORM
Thunderous pounding burst against the seams of Admrilia’s subconscious. She rolled over, folding a blanked of dreams around herself, when the wave crashed against the hull. The next rocked her body straight out of the bunk. Admrilia landed squarely on the floor, jolted awake. ‘Stormlord’s mercy!” She staggered in the dark, searching for her sailor’s cloak.
They must have arrived.
A hand rapped furiously against the door of her cabin. “Argenti!” Flavius shouted. “Wake up.”
“Come in Flavius.” He entered, drenched from head to foot in seawater. “Took a swim did you?”
Flavius threw a boot at her face. “We need to move.”
Admrilia followed her neptori past the rows of panic-stricken oarsmen. It took all of her guard’s might to open the hatch. Saltwater greeted them. Flavius helped heave her onto the deck. She quickly caught her bearings. Finally, after a week of brain rotting idleness, her veins hummed with adrenaline.
The Pontus was fighting for its life inside the largest cyclone Admrilia had ever seen. The ship careened drastically to the right against an oncoming wave. Admrilia braced her feet as icy water whooshed over the railing and slammed into the crew. Neptori screamed as they lost their balance. There was a sickening thud behind her, and Amdrilia turned quickly to grab Flavius’s arm as he stumbled.
“Thanks.” He grunted.
“And you call yourself a sailor. Come on!” Admrilia whipped her already soaked hair out of her eyes. She staggered towards the steering oar with Flavius a few paces behind her. Two men were yelling, each hands braced on the steering oar.
“Head East!”
“I cannot see a gods blasted thing in this storm!” That as Ros, the helmsmen. “You think I know East?”
“Are you not a neptori?” And that was Centori Tygris, who knew nothing about ships. Nor, apparently, Ros’ infamous temper.
“I AM A NEPTORI! YOU SHIELD TRIPPING TWAT!” Ros bellowed. He grunted as he righted the ship from another monstrous wave. Ros screamed at the sky. “IS THAT ALL YOU GOT YOUR ARSEHOLE?”
A sharp bolt of lightening tore through the thunderous clouds, crashing into the water next to the hull.
Tygris jumped. “Stormlord have mercy!”
“I didn’t do that.” Ros said.
“YES YOU DID!” Tygris roared.
“BRACE!” Ros ordered. Admrilia lunged to clench the railing as the ship rose with an oncoming wave. She took a deep breath. Freezing water crashed overhead. She gasped for air when it was over.
“TYGRIS?” Ros screamed. “Where did he go?”
“I’ve got him!” Flavius’ voice trembled behind them. He was leaning over the ships side, Alexandros at his side. Together they helped Tygris back aboard.
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Amdrilia whipped her hair out of her eyes as someone bumped against her. Thrysne below, why had she slept with it undone?
Asho’s linens were soaked and clung to his shivering skin. His golden curls lay flat against his forehead. He braced as the Pontus rocked. “Stormlord’s Tits!”
“Anatomically incorrect.” Admrilia grumbled.
The ocean continued its punishment. Another wave hit and Admrilia braced again. When they had surfaced for air Asho shouted. “I never thought they were so serious about the storm.”
“See, that’s your problem. You take nothing seriously@”
“I do too!”
“Drinking doesn’t count, Asho!” Admrilia shouted. Lightening cracked and they jumped as the purple sails lit. Heat, faint and glorious, warmed her face before the fabric shinged in the torrential downpour.
The Conqueror appeared his centori close behind. The Emperor was unflinching as the cyclone destroyed his prized ship. The aging Conqueror sidestepped surefooted around the stumbling neptori, effortlessly hauling them to their feet and pushing them back to position. His abyss-like eyes chewed into his heirs as he approached. “You two!” He hollered. “Report.”
“Storm, Conqueror.” Asho barked.
The creases around the Conqueror’s eyes tightened. “I meant with the ship. You!” He pointed a dry arm at Asho. “Control the panic belowdecks. Get those oarsmen in line. And you-” He pointed to Admrilia. “With me.”
Admrilia’s pleasure at Asho’s swift dismissal was replaced with a quiet terror as the Conqueror turned, marching surefooted back towards the bow. Admrilia’s throat tightened at the incoming mountain of water. Men screamed in terror. The Conqueror reached for his neck and retreated the wyrdstone. He held it in his fist, white crests spraying through his loose knuckles. The Conqueror squarely planted his feet. “Brace me!” He barked.
Admrilia’s hands flew to his shoulders. She tightened her core as the ship rose and he pushed back against her. The Conqueror was surprisingly heavy. The Conqueror raised the wyrdstone overhead.
The ocean crashed against them. Her boots slipped. “Hold me steady!” He roared.
Admrilia repositioned her frozen fingers at his hips. The cold seized her body, rooting her limbs in place. She choked as the presence she had first felt when she touched the wyrdstone take hold of her ribs. Admrilia peeled a hand away from the Conqueror’s back as her vision darkened, trying to pry off the invisible noose around her neck.
Wyrdling.
The voice was a menacing growl. Her mind whimpered at the presence as the Stormlord tightened his grip around her lungs. She lifted her hands from the Conqueror’s back, clawing for her throat. You would dare run from me wyrdling?
“Argenti!” The Conqueror’s steely voice punctured her mind. “Remember your oath.”
Admrilia stumbled forward, her hands finding the Conqueror’s back. The Stormlord tightened his hold. Admrilia bit her tongue, the bitter coppery taste a welcome distraction from the fact that she was certainly dying. Her lungs ached for air as she drowned.
The world grew dark and horribly quiet.
And then, it wasn’t. The Stormlord’s sharp hold over her lungs loosened, and she could breath again. Admrilia opened an eyelid. Overhead, fish and driftwood suspended just inches from her scalp, frozen by sheer willpower. The storm cleaved, and the Pontus quickly sailed through the tunnel the Conqueror had created them.
The Conqueror pulled his hands to his chest, and the ocean fell. When it was over, The Conqueror placed the wyrdstone back beneath his dry tunic. He turned, and loosened her grip from his sides. Admrilia’s boots slid back, her knees buckled. She collapsed on the deck, violently coughing up blood nearly black. She shuddered with embarrassment, commanding her weak legs to work. For her body to rise so she could face the Emperor. But the exhaustion that sunk into her bones was heavy.
The Conqueror wiped his mouth. His abyss like eyes were dark and triumphant. He folded his palms and observed her. “You are ordered to sleep the rest of the journey.”
“Yes, Conq-” His boots stepped over her body. Admrilia only just heard the neptori cheer before her head collided with the deck.