by Clayton Wood
“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 trudged 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 R
usty, 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 himself 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.
Another explosion rocked the ship, shards of wood and metal flying past them. Kyle pulled magic into his mind’s eye, weaving rapidly. A shimmering blue aura appeared around them, debris ricocheting off of it. Men screamed in the distance.
“Foremast down!” came a panicked shout.
There was a terrible cracking sound, and Kyle glanced upward, spotting the mast at the front of the ship. The base of it had shattered, the remaining massive wooden beam slowly falling backward toward them. Kyle pushed Ariana off of him frantically, then scrambled to his feet.
“Run!” he screamed.
He grabbed her by the arm, yanking her out of the path of the falling beam. The mast descended toward them, its massive sails rippling sinuously in the wind, the thick white fabric engulfed in flames. Its cross-beams crashed into the next mast, snapping it in half. Kyle felt Ariana take over, grabbing him around the waist and leaping through the air. The foremast barely missed them, clipping the edge of his gravity shield. The shield shoved back against the foremast, catapulting them forward. They fell to the deck, hovering a foot above it. The flaming sails and rigging descended in slow-motion all around them, draping over the shield and leaving them in near-darkness.
The heat from the burning sails was immediate and intense, and Ariana's shard reacted immediately, snuffing out the inferno and cooling the air within the gravity shield. She pushed herself off of him, nullifying his shield and grabbing the charred fabric with both hands, then pulling outward. The sinews in her neck and arms strained, and there was a loud ripping sound as the thick fabric tore. Light spilled in from the widening hole, and Ariana stood up, lending Kyle a hand. He grasped it, hauling himself up onto his feet.
“We have to get out of here,” Ariana shouted. Kyle shook his head.
“Look,” he yelled, pointing at the huge sail, a third of it now engulfed in flames. Its surface rippled and bulged in a dozen places, with muffled screams coming from the sections that were burning. “They're burning alive!”
“We need to save ourselves,” Ariana protested.
“No,” Kyle insisted.
“Kyle, our mission...”
“I let Rusty die,” Kyle interrupted, his tone sharp. “I could have protected him. I won’t let these people die too.” He turned back to the burning sail. “I’m going to get that sail off them.” The boom of the Defiance's cannons rippled through the air, and the ship lurched to the right.
“Fine,” Ariana replied. “Make water and drop it on them.” Kyle shook his head.
“It'll take too long.” He dropped through the hole in the sail, crawling underneath until he was completely covered. Then he stood, pushing the heavy fabric up with his hands.
“What are you doing?” he heard Ariana ask. He ignored her, weaving magic in his mind's eye, creating a gravity shield around himself. Then he paused, taking a deep breath in; he let it out slowly, then streamed magic to his boots.
Suddenly he felt himself burst upward, the sail tenting over his gravity shield as he rose through the air. He streamed even more magic to his boots, his gut dropping as he accelerated upward, taking the sail with him. He glanced down past his feet, seeing the huge sail hanging down all around him, the rigging attaching the sail to the fallen mast's crossbeam uncoiling rapidly on the deck. He decreased the magic stream just as the rigging and sail went taught, right before he was jerked to a halt. The sudden, crushing deceleration took the breath right out of his lungs, and he gasped for air, stars floating in the periphery of his vision. He grit his teeth, ignoring the burning in his chest, and stared down at the now-taught rigging bolted to the cross-beams below.
He had to get the sail free from the mast, or it would just fall back down on the crew below...
Kyle took a deep breath in, then shoved as much
magic into his gravity boots as he could. The sail and rigging strained below him, the cross-beams far below starting to bend under the steadily increasing tension, arcing upward from the deck. He pulled as much magic into his mind as he could, throwing it at his boots. The cross-beams creaked, arcing even higher, until they snapped off of the fallen mast. He burst upward in the air with gut-wrenching speed, his guts dropping to his feet as he hurtled through space. The burning sail and dangling rigging came with him, soaring high above the Defiance's remaining sails.
Kyle cut back sharply on his magic stream, turning to the left and flying away from the Defiance's ruined deck. The dark blue waters of the ocean were below him now, barely visible in the darkness. He waited another few seconds, then stopped abruptly in mid-air, the fluttering sail and rigging continuing forward past him like a giant flying jellyfish.
As he watched, the sail flew forward and downward, black smoke rising from the still-burning fabric. Still it fell, until it crashed into the ocean, the flames snuffed out in a burst of steam.
He turned to the Defiance, watching as the sailors who'd been trapped underneath the burning sail rolled on the deck to snuff out the fire licking at their clothes. Watched as they all stood up, their eyes on the sail floating in the ocean. As they raised their eyes to the heavens, looking at him.
Kyle flew back over the Defiance, descending slowly through the air toward the deck below. He dropped down right next to Ariana, his black gravity boots striking the deck with a dull thud. The Captain, his fine red uniform smudged with dirt and soot, walked up to them, his expression incredulous.