Runic Vengeance (The Runic Series Book 3)

by Clayton Wood

  Ariana turned, leading him to the side of the ship. She stopped before the railing at the edge, staring down at the inky waves below.

  “It's beautiful, isn't it?” she murmured. She stood there for a long moment, then smiled. “I've never been on a boat before this.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Ariana replied. “My parents took me to Stridon once, when I was younger. I wanted to see the ocean, but we spent too much time seeing the sights downtown, and in the Tower.” She sighed. “I never got to see it with them.”

  Kyle heard the sound of men singing in the distance, the music starting anew. He found himself staring at Ariana, her eyes hauntingly dark against her pale skin, her black pixie hair rippling in the wind. He had the sudden mad urge to kiss her, and he leaned in and did just that, kissing her cheek. She turned in surprise, staring at him for a long moment. Then she grabbed his ears oh-so-gently, pulling him in and kissing him right on the lips. Kyle felt a strange tingling sensation all over his body, and barely realized when she pulled away. She leaned her head on his shoulder then, staring at the waves for a long time, then lifting her eyes to the stars above. They were positively splendid, unlike anything Kyle had ever seen on Earth. Thousands of stars shining brighter than the north star, their silvery light reflecting off of the churning waves below.

  Kyle stared at that awesome vista, feeling the cool breeze in his hair, and Ariana's hair tickling his neck. The deck shifted gently and rhythmically under his feet, the sounds of laughter and singing in the air. He smiled, closing his eyes, enjoying every bit of it.

  This night, this moment...it was perfect.

  Chapter 17

  Kyle groaned, feeling a hand grab his shoulder and shake it. He pushed the hand away, rolling onto his side and pulling the blankets over his head. The hand returned, shaking him again.

  “Kyle!” a voice hissed in his ear.

  “Go away,” he mumbled. The hand shook him again, harder this time.

  “Kyle, wake up!”

  He sighed, rolling onto his back and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Then he lowered his hands, seeing Ariana staring down at him. She looked worried.

  “What's wrong?” he asked.

  “I heard something,” she answered. Kyle sat up, and Ariana sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. “Something beyond the ship.”

  “What was it?”

  “I don't know,” she admitted. “But a little while later, I heard someone shouting up on deck.” She stared at their bedroom door, which was closed and locked. “I wanted to check it out, but I didn’t want to leave you here.”

  “I'll go with you,” he mumbled, hardly looking forward to the prospect of leaving his warm, comfy bed. Ariana reached down and grabbed his boots for him. He sighed, throwing off his covers and slipping on his gravity boots. Then he walked to the door. He opened it, peering out into the hallway beyond. It was deserted.

  “Let's go upstairs, to the deck,” Ariana proposed. Kyle nodded, and they left the room, walking down the corridor. They'd made it halfway across when Ariana stopped suddenly, staring off into space.

  “What?” Kyle asked.

  Ariana threw herself at him, shoving him sideways. His fell onto his back on the wooden floor below, Ariana landing on top of him. She pressed him firmly downward, covering his body with her own.

  “What the...” he gasped.

  The leftmost wall of the hallway exploded with a deafening boom, wooden shrapnel flying in all directions. Kyle threw his arms in front of his face just in time, his forearms stinging as pieces of wood struck them. Moments later, he felt an icy wetness rush up his back, so incredibly cold that it took his breath away.

  “Kyle!” Ariana yelled, her eyes wide with horror. Kyle lowered his arms, his jaw going slack. A massive hole had been ripped into the left wall of the hallway, ice-cold water gushing in. The water was forming a rapidly growing pool on the floor, soaking through their clothes. Kyle pushed himself off of the floor, wincing at a sharp pain in his left forearm. He looked down, seeing a few sharp slivers of wood sticking through his bloodied skin.

  “Kyle, are you hurt?” Ariana asked.

  “I’m fine,” he replied. The doors lining the hallway opened, men dashing out of their rooms barely clothed.

  “Everyone on deck!” one of the men shouted. The men made a mad dash for the stairwell at the far end of the corridor, their feet splashing in the steadily rising water covering the floor. One of them slammed into Kyle's shoulder as they ran past, nearly knocking him over. Ariana pulled him away from the wreckage, but he resisted.

  “We've got to get out of here!” she urged.

  “The map!” he countered, pointing back to their room...or what remained of it. The door had been taken right off of its hinges, the door frame around it shattered. The last of the men ran up the stairwell, leaving the hallway empty. Kyle walked up to the shattered doorway, but when he looked through the door frame, he saw that the floor had been almost entirely demolished by whatever had struck it. Only a deep hole remained, lined by the jagged ends of broken floorboards.

  “Stay here,” Kyle ordered, making sure no one was around to see him, then activating his gravity boots and levitating a foot off of the ground. He streamed magic into his boots then, flying through the shattered doorway into the room. He hovered over the gaping hole in the floor, spotting a backpack hanging by its strap on one of the hooks nailed to the wall. He grabbed it, searching for the second backpack...but it was nowhere to be seen. He flew back to Ariana, handing the backpack to her. There was another boom, and the entire ship seemed to shudder. He heard someone yelling in the distance, and barely had time to cut his magic stream to his boots and their gravity shields before whoever it was could see him using magic. The icy water below lapped at his ankles, chilling him to the bone.

  “Come on!” a voice shouted. Kyle spun about, seeing Rusty running toward them. The heavyset sailor pointed to the door at the far end of the hallway, where everyone else had gone. “Go, go!”

  “What's going on?” Kyle asked. He followed Rusty's advice, his boots kicking up freezing seawater onto his pants. Ariana was right beside him, her bare feet cutting through the water with ease.

  “Don't talk, move!” Rusty yelled, pushing them both forward. The man's face was beet red, his eyes bloodshot from the night before. Without warning, a rapid-fire volley of explosions rocked the ship, the very walls vibrating with the violence of it. The ship lurched to the left, and Kyle slid leftward, slamming his shoulder into the wall. Then the ship tilted to the right, and he fell away from the wall, landing on his right side in the bone-chilling water. The shock of it took his breath away, and he found himself swallowing reflexively as his face dipped into the icy seawater. He pushed himself quickly to his feet, seeing Rusty scrambling to do the same behind him. Only Ariana remained on her feet, and she lifted Rusty from the floor with one hand.

  Suddenly the wall behind them exploded, debris flying in all directions. Kyle turned his face away just in time, something sharp striking the back of his head, knocking him forward. He landed on his hands and knees, hearing a horrid cracking sound behind him. He turned about, seeing a new hole in the ship. The hallway steadily tilted to the right, throwing them all into the rightmost wall.

  “Go go go!” Rusty screamed. The man was huddled against the wall, clutching his chest with one hand. Blood trickled from between his fingers, forming dark red trails down his forearm. He waved them away with his other hand. “Save yourselves!”

  “Come on!” Ariana cried, grabbing Rusty under the shoulder and hauling him up onto his feet. Rusty's face turned pale, and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He slumped forward, and would have landed on his face in the water if Ariana hadn't caught him. She stared at Rusty, then looked up at Kyle. “We have to get him out of here,” she yelled over the sound of gushing water.

  “Carry him!” Kyle yelled back, gesturing for her to follow him. She slung Rusty over one shoulder, then t
rudged forward, following Kyle down the hallway toward the stairwell. Another volley of ear-splitting booms wracked the ship, and again the hallway tilted crazily to the left. Kyle was thrown into the wall again, grunting as his already tender shoulder slammed into the wood. The hallway tilted the other way, and he stumbled to the right, tripping over his own feet and landing face-first into the frigid water. His entire body went rigid, his throat spasming shut as his face entered the water. He tried to push himself upward, but his arms were so weak and stiff that he couldn't. He grit his teeth, ignoring the bitter cold and the burning in his lungs, and heaved downward on the floor with his hands as hard as he could, his face rising up above the water.

  Air!

  He gulped air into his lungs greedily, then locked his elbows and slid his knees underneath him, kneeling there for a moment. He felt a cold hand grab his arm and lift him to his feet. It was Ariana!

  “You okay?” she asked. Kyle nodded mutely, his teeth chattering uncontrollably, and he crossed his arms over his chest in a vain attempt to keep warm.

  “Keep going,” Ariana urged, now at his side. Even carrying Rusty, she was still moving much faster than he was. Kyle tried to keep up, but his legs felt so incredibly weak and slow, every step requiring enormous effort. He fell behind, his entire body shaking now.

  “I can't,” Kyle gasped, stumbling forward in the ever-rising water. It was nearly up to his knees now. He stopped, closing his eyes and hugging his arms to his chest. He grit his teeth, then pulled a strand of magic into his mind’s eye, throwing it at his boots. He lifted up out of the water, hovering a foot above it.

  “Kyle,” Ariana warned, stopping and grabbing his arm. “They’ll see you using magic!”

  “Let them,” Kyle retorted. He flew down the flooded corridor, gesturing for Ariana to follow. “Come on!”

  With his gravity boots activated, Kyle passed Ariana, reaching the end of the hallway in seconds, passing through the doorway there to the stairwell beyond. He flew up it, finding the closed door at the top. He glanced back, seeing Ariana running up the stairs behind him, Rusty still draped over her shoulder. He cut off his magic stream, descending until his boots touched the floor. He felt the floorboards shudder as another boom sounded in the distance. He opened the door with difficulty, his hands slow and clumsy with the cold.

  “Come on,” he urged, waving Ariana through. She jogged up the stairs and went through the door, Kyle following behind. They ran down another long hallway, this one mercifully dry. There was something off about it, however; Kyle realized that the entire hallway was tilted a few degrees to the left.

  An awful cracking sound echoed down the hallway, followed by muffled screams in the distance.

  “Kyle,” Ariana blurted out suddenly, tapping him on the shoulder. She lowered Rusty to the ground, putting a hand on his chest.

  “What?”

  “I can't hear his heart,” Ariana replied, her voice rising in panic. “It's not beating, Kyle!” Kyle felt a chill run through him, and dropped to his hands and knees at Rusty's side, putting two fingers to his neck like his parents had taught him. He held them there for a long moment.

  No pulse.

  Kyle clasped his hands together over Rusty's chest, locking his elbows and shoving downward. He pumped hard and fast, feeling something pop under his palms as he did so.

  “Kyle, what are you doing?”

  “CPR,” Kyle replied. He continued the chest compressions, feeling his own heart hammering in his chest. He remembered what his parents – both of them emergency doctors – had taught him.

  Nine, ten, eleven, twelve...

  Sweat began beading up on his forehead, dripping down over his eyebrows and into his eyes.

  Twenty-eight, twenty-nine...thirty!

  He scrambled to Rusty's head, leaning over and tilting the man's chin back. He hesitated for a split second, then leaned in, placing his mouth over Rusty's, ignoring his instinctive revulsion. He gave two breaths.

  “What do I do?” Ariana asked. Kyle resumed chest compressions, pointing to Rusty's mouth.

  “When I count to thirty, give him two more breaths,” Kyle instructed. Ariana made a face. “Just do it,” Kyle urged. “Eleven, twelve, thirteen...” His arms were already starting to burn, and he realized he was bending his elbows, using his arms. He locked them again, focusing on bending at the waist like his parents had taught him. “Twenty-nine...thirty. Go!”

  Ariana did as she was instructed, giving Rusty two breaths. Then Kyle continued CPR. His hands slipped on Rusty's chest, and Kyle nearly fell over. His hands were slick with dark red blood; he wiped them on Rusty's pants, then continued compressions.

  “Ten, eleven, twelve...”

  “Kyle,” Ariana called out.

  “Sixteen, seventeen...”

  “Kyle!” Ariana nearly shouted. Kyle turned to look at Ariana, and saw her shaking her head. “He's not coming back.”

  “You don't understand,” Kyle retorted. “We can save him!” He closed his eyes, continuing counting his compressions, ignoring the sweat pouring from him. He felt Ariana's hand on his shoulder.

  “Kyle, look.”

  He opened his eyes, following Ariana's finger to Rusty's chest. A pool of blood had formed there, immersing Kyle's hands all the way to the wrists. He jerked his hands up from Rusty's chest, staring at his soaked fingers, then at Rusty. The man was as pale as Ariana, his eyes staring lifelessly upward, his mouth slightly open.

  He was dead.

  Kyle staggered to his feet, holding his hands in front of him. He felt awfully lightheaded suddenly, and his legs buckled underneath him. He felt cool arms catch him from behind, then lower him slowly to the floor.

  “Kyle?”

  “I'm fine,” he assured her, still feeling woozy. “Just...give me a minute.” He stared at Rusty, swallowing past a lump in his throat.

  If I’d just used magic earlier, he thought, he’d still be alive.

  “Kyle,” Ariana urged, shaking his shoulder. Kyle said nothing, looking down at his own bloodied hands.

  Rusty was dead because of him.

  The floor below him shuddered, the sounds of men shouting coming from beyond the door at the end of the hallway.

  “We need to get going,” Ariana urged, grabbing Kyle's arm and hauling him upward. Kyle got his legs under him, and rose shakily to his feet. “Come on,” she said, pulling him forward. Kyle turned to look down at Rusty one more time. He expected to feel sad, but he only felt exhausted...numb. He turned away from the man, following Ariana's lead. They reached the door at the end, and Ariana threw it open, sprinting through. Kyle ran after her as fast as his wobbly legs could take him, and found himself outside under the inky black night sky, on the massive deck of the Defiance. Dozens of men were on deck, running frantically toward the left side of the ship...toward the cannons. Kyle spotted the Captain standing on deck, behind the men at the cannons.

  “Run the powder boys ragged!” the Captain barked. “I want grape shot on their damn quarterdeck!” He raised his hand in the air. “On my signal, carronade on their hull!” He paused, letting the ship sway for a moment, then lowered his arm sharply. “Fire!”

  The men at one cannon – the largest and shortest – pulled a rope, and the cannon fired with an ear-shattering explosion, the deck vibrating powerfully under Kyle's feet. The entire left side of the ship rose as the deck tilted, and Kyle caught himself before he stumbled backward. He focused beyond the cannons, at the roiling ocean. Then he eyes widened, his jaw dropping open.

  There was a ship there in the distance, flanking the Defiance. Its huge black sails fluttered in the howling wind, cannons lining its side in a single row. As he watched, those cannons flashed.

  Bam-bam-bam-bam!

  “Brace!” the Captain screamed, dropping to the deck. There was a high-pitched whistling sound; it got louder and louder, until it seemed like it was right on top of them. Suddenly the deck exploded around Kyle, debris flying up into the air. He felt himse
lf flying backward, felt his back strike something hard, the air blasting out of his lungs. A sharp pain lanced through his ears, and he howled in pain, curling his knees to his chest and covering his ears with his hands. Thick black smoke rose all around him, and he sucked air into his lungs, choking on the thick, oily fumes. He coughed uncontrollably, his eyes burning and thick with tears. He groaned, rolling onto his hands and knees, then staggered to his feet.

  A shadowy form limped through the thick smoke toward Kyle, and he took a step back until he realized it was a sailor. The man looked dazed, his left ear torn clean off, blood spilling down the side of his neck. Kyle turned around, and saw another man standing perfectly still, staring dumbly at his right arm...or what was left of it. His hand had been amputated, his wrist reduced to tattered, bloody flesh.

  Kyle spun about in a slow circle, feeling numb with shock. Everywhere he looked, there was carnage.

  “Kyle!”

  He turned around, seeing another shadow moving quickly toward him. The smoke parted, revealing a familiar pale face.

  “Ariana!” he cried.

  She ran up to Kyle, grabbing him by the shoulders, her eyes wide with fear. Kyle stared past her, at the shattered deck of the Defiance. The polished wooden planks had shattered, leaving huge, gaping holes with blackened, flaming edges across the entire mid-deck. As the smoke began to clear, Kyle spotted the Captain rising to his feet, barking orders and gesturing wildly. A few men rose to their feet around him, sprinting to the cannons and pushing aside their dead and dying crew-mates to man them.

  And in the distance, at the front-most mast of the Defiance, the sails were on fire.

  “Kyle, we have to get out of here!” Ariana yelled.

  Kyle heard another round of cannon-fire, and again that high-pitched whistling sound. Ariana shouted, throwing herself at him, and they fell to the deck. Kyle smashed his head against the hard wood, stars exploding in his eyes. He fought back the immediate urge to vomit, gritting his teeth against the bitter bile surging up into his mouth.