SWNOVELS Tides of Torment: Chapter 1
The cannon boomed, smoke filling the air as the iron ball soared from the barrel toward the hull of the Ackazanti. Wood splinters exploded into the air as the ball crashed through it, leaving a large hole in the side of the merchant ship. A cheer rang out on the deck of The Saorsa, and Yannik prepped a second ball.
“Hold the fire,” Sereia instructed. “Give them time to rethink their position.”
Ackazanti was captained by a heartless tyrant, Domyk Mantivic, who took his merchandise from the hands of the impoverished and didn’t care who he left destitute. Sereia would not tolerate him any longer. It was time to end the discord and strife he’d spread across the sea.
“They’re preparing to fire back, Captain!” Adrik called from the bow.
Just as Sereia’s lips opened to order Yannik to fire, the water erupted around the Ackazanti, and two giant tentacles the length of the ship itself slithered around its hull. The sound of creaking wood echoed across the water as the tentacles tightened.
Sereia reached for her spyglass, extending it with a snap as she brought it to her eye. The deck of Ackazanti was pure chaos. Men and women ran frantically with whatever weapons could be found at hand, attacking the mast-sized tentacles with full force.
Beyond the merchant ship, her sister vessel Prepik fired a cannon, missing the creature and striking the hull of Ackazanti instead.
“By the sea,” Sereia gasped as the bow of the Ackazanti began to dip beneath the weight of the sea monster. Two more tentacles rose from the water to crash down on the ship’s deck, and the beast seemed to slither and coil around it. The creature had a large head and giant eyes, like two massive boulders, which blinked against the bright sunlight. It was unlike anything she had ever witnessed before, so large and violent. “It’s going to go under,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
“Captain?” Sereia lowered the spyglass to look down at Adrik, now just below the quarterdeck. “Should we help them, Captain?”
While she wanted their haul, Sereia did not want their deaths. “Yes, let’s bring us closer and prepare to fire.”
After a quick nod, Adrik hurried over the deck, barking out orders to the others, and Sereia reclaimed her hold on the helm and steered The Saorsa closer.
The crew’s cries of distress and Mantivic’s frantic commands drifted to them, a haunting song that was soon joined by screams of terror as a crewman was wrapped up in one giant tentacle and brought toward a gaping maw of razor-sharp teeth and dripping saliva.
“Fire!” Sereia shouted. The cannon exploded once more, but even the sharp impact of the iron ball against the side of the kraken’s head was not enough to stop the beast from dropping the sailor into its mouth. His screams carried to her ears until the cavernous mouth closed upon him.
Several more cannons echoed from the other side: Prepik’s captain doing her part to save the main merchant ship.
A deafening roar was the kraken’s response, and then the loud crack of wood crushing in on itself as tentacles tightened until Ackazanti broke in two. The stern splashed down on the surface of the sea, sending out ripples. It bobbed momentarily on the sea, almost as if nothing had happened. Then it filled with water and slipped beneath the waves.
The bow sank even faster with the weight of the kraken pulling it into the depths below. Sereia released a shuddering breath as the last of the white sails disappeared.
She did not have long to absorb what she had just witnessed. The Saorsa gave a great lurch, and it forced Sereia to tighten her hold on the helm lest she tumble to the deck. Below, several of her crew found themselves facedown in wood or clinging to a railing.
Sereia knew that Adrik and her crew could handle the tentacles without her help should they rise from the water. She would be of more use in the sea, where she could see this beast for what it was.
She ran across the quarterdeck, pressed a hand to the railing, and leaped over the top of it, falling several stories down into the sea. As she sank beneath the waves, Sereia took her first deep breath of salt water, feeling her body adapt and change, the gills behind her ears filtering the water through them. While she had been born on land, there was a part of Sereia that did, and always would, belong to the sea.
The kraken was as large as the ship itself. A coiling demon of such mass, it was daunting to think of taking it head on. Why it had not been satisfied feasting on the crew of Ackazanti, Sereia wasn’t sure, but she would be damned if she would allow her ship and her crew to join in on that devastation.
Treading water easily, Sereia stretched her fingers out through the silken sea and let her magic connect with each droplet. She could sense the very current below them that traveled along the coast of Tribonik and drove on farther toward Torksvala.
Sereia took a deep breath, filling her body with the sea water and letting it ground her as she pushed with her affinity to create heavy streams, mimicking the current below, to sweep between the kraken and her ship, forcing as much pressure onto the beast as she could. From above, the distant sound of cannons could be heard. She could only deduce that her crew were firing on the kraken, which was soon proven true as the iron balls propelled through the water and down onto the creature.
Its roar of complaint echoed through the sea, far angrier than the gentle whines and moans of the whales she’d swum with in the past.
The tip of a tentacle snapped into place on the bottom of The Saorsa’s hull, and the ship rocked on the surface.
Releasing her own roar into the water, Sereia pushed harder with her body, increasing the current that wove between the kraken and her ship, forcing every ounce of her willpower into it, until at last the kraken’s hold on the hull was torn loose and the giant beast was shoved half a league away. Further from The Saorsa and directly into the path of Prepik.
Wasting no time, Sereia created a gush of water beneath her that helped her breach the surface and pushed her up onto the deck of her ship. Landing roughly on her side, she shook long strands of her hair out of her eyes and looked up to the quarterdeck. Boran had automatically claimed control of the helm in her absence.
“Get us out of here!” she yelled up at him.
“Captain.” Adrik was at her side, a hand at her elbow hauling her up onto her feet. “Next time, give us warning before you launch yourself into the depths with a man-eating beast.”
“No time,” she ground out. “I’ve pushed the beast toward the other ship. I hope I haven’t sentenced them to death, but we’ve only got a short window to make a run for it.”
Adrik responded without hesitation, shouting orders that had the sails opening up to catch more wind. As The Saorsa turned in the water to head away from the creature, Sereia could only watch as the tentacles of the kraken shot from the sea and crashed around Prepik, taking down the foremast and all its sails in the process.
Sereia didn’t take her eyes off the other ship, but instead forced herself to watch as it was crushed beneath the strength of the sea monster. She had chosen her ship over the others, and she would bear witness to their ending.
When it was deemed long enough for the kraken to have had its fill and return to the deep, Sereia directed her ship back to the scene of the attack. From the waters they fished up any who could be scavenged. Wrapped them in blankets against the chill, bandaged their wounds, and offered them some jerky to stave off hunger while they made their way toward the port of Bezopasnyy.
Night had fallen by the time they were docking in the harbor, but an apothecary was called for, and the survivors were relocated to a local infirmary.
As she watched the last of them carted off, Sereia sighed, weariness settling deep into her bones.
“What say you to us getting an inn for the night?” Adrik asked, sidling up beside her.
“I think perhaps after what was witnessed today, the crew is due some shore leave,” Sereia bit out. Her throat was tight, emotion bubbling just below the surface. She wasn’t proud of her actions today and knew they should have stayed to fight against the kraken rather than retreat. Had they stayed, they could have possibly saved the Prepik at the very least.
“Stop it, Rei,” Adrik said firmly.
Sereia turned her head to look at him, a glare pinching at her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Stop second guessing your actions today. You saved our crew with no casualties.”
“At the expense of an entire ship. We could have—”
“What?” He swept his arms out wide. “Stayed and helped? Kept us in the fight?”
“Yes!” she snapped.
“And joined Prepik and Ackazanti at the bottom of the sea.”
“You don’t know that,” she fired back.
“You know as well as I do that we weren’t all getting out of that. And if we had stayed, we would have all died. I wanted to help them as badly as you did, Captain. But there was no perfect out. You made the right call.”
Sereia crossed her arms, teeth grinding as she breathed heavily through her nose. While she was a pirate, and her intention had been to plunder Ackazanti of all her wares, Sereia and her crew only stole from those who were tyrants on the sea. She took from those who had already taken from others, and when her treasures were sold, a large portion always went back to the people who had originally been wronged. There would have been those who were lost in the battle between the Ackazanti, Prepik and The Saorsa, but not to such an extent.
She didn’t live without a conscience, and having to turn her back on others in grave danger cut deeply.
“Tell the crew they are free to take leave here at port. I’ll claim us rooms at The Obstinate Goat.” Sereia signaled to Yon and Chailai, who had seen the last of the injured off the ship. Her personal spy and second mate were quickly at her side. “Gather your things, we’re going ashore for the foreseeable future.” Both women nodded and then dispersed.
Sereia headed into her own quarters and packed up a leather satchel, taking only what would be needed. A spare change of clothes, a book should she decide to hole up in her room, and a spare knife that she slid into the bottom of her bag.
As their boots thudded across the wooden wharf, Sereia fought the internal rocking of her body that was in direct competition with the solidness of the structure beneath her. They had been out at sea for weeks, and it would take time to adjust to being on land once more.
Together, the three women made their way up the dirt streets of Bezopasnyy, passing dark stone homes alight with single candle flames. Cracked wooden doors kept out most of the chill of the night, and occasionally the bay of a hound would drift into the air. At the top of the hill, The Obstinate Goat sat like a beacon of drunkenness and revelry, windows bright in the darkness.
Pushing open the door, Sereia was met with the din of chatter, broken by the occasional bout of raucous laughter or the thud of heavy tankards being set down on wooden tables. The tavern was alive with drinking and tall tales, completely at odds with her own internal thoughts and emotions.
It was good. For her crew, at least. They deserved this break on land after the battle at sea they’d just overcome.
Sereia stepped up to the bar and slapped her hands on top of it, allowing the solid wood to hold up her weight. The barkeep noticed her and stepped up.
“Well, well, well. Look what the seal dragged in. Captain Ferox.” Kartok was a grizzled old man. Dark silver hair splayed out over his head every which way, and a thick leather patch rested over one eye. Rumors said he’d lost it in a fight, taking a broken bottle to the face over a beautiful girl in his youth. Sereia had it on better account he’d tripped while drunk and landed on something sharp. “Thought you were bound for Caifu, last I heard.”
“The sea spirits had other plans for us.” She didn’t plan to elaborate. Her crew would have the tale of the kraken spread around port by sunup. They didn’t need her aid in the matter. “I need four rooms. You’ve got them to spare?”
Kartok grumbled like she was tasking him with something unpleasant rather than putting coppers directly into his pocket. “We’re full up.” He brought a fist to his face to cough a haggard sounding wheeze into it.
Sereia slanted a glare at him and fished a silver coin from her satchel, which she held up between them. “The tavern’s not that full, Kartok. Why don’t you check your keys again?”
He eyed the silver piece, and she could see him fighting the urge to lick his lips. “Three,” he coughed out. “I can do three.”
She sighed but used her thumb to fling the coin into his waiting hand. “I’ll take them.” Once the keys were in hand, Sereia turned to Chailai and Yon, who waited behind her. “I’m afraid the two of you will have to bunk together, unless either of you wishes to share with Adrik.”
Yon, who was always stoic and typically silent, only squinted. It was Chailai, her second in command, who plucked one key from Sereia’s hand. “Yon and I do not mind sharing. We live on a ship, two to a room is a dream.”
She watched them disappear up the creaky wooden steps while leaning against the bar. The edge of it pressed into her spine, and she relished the bite. While Adrik may have spoken true, she wasn’t ready to accept her failure as needful.
Eventually, Sereia made it up to her room to bathe in the first hot water she’d seen in weeks and change into fresh clothing. Her salt-stained garments were given to the maid to be cleaned. Feeling somewhat put together, Sereia returned to the tavern below to fill herself up on beet stew and bread.
When her belly was full and the ache of her muscles had settled into heavy weariness, Sereia settled herself beside the large stone fireplace, propping her feet up on a log stool and clasping her ale in her hands.
Bringing a tankard to her lips, she gulped down some of the foamy ale, blue eyes staring into the fire. Outdoors, the wind rattled the shutters and rain beat against the window panes as a fresh storm unleashed its woes upon the coastline. For once, she wasn’t being rocked to and fro by violent waves but found herself on solid ground—steady and dry.
It felt like more than was deserved.
Across the tavern, she could hear the excited shouts of Boran, her third mate, and Batteo, a deckhand, as they won at a round of dice. Perhaps it was with the aid of ale, but they were putting the horrors of today behind them. Relishing in the chance to either win or lose a handful of coin.
“They say all of Lucem was pitched into darkness.” A voice drifted over the din of chatter and cheers.
“For how lon—”
“Can I interest you in a top up, m’lady?” the barmaid asked, appearing suddenly at Sereia’s side with a pitcher in her hand.
Sereia held up her tankard, glancing at her cooly. “There’s no lady here.” Sereia trained her ear on the voices coming from the table off to her side, and her dark brow furrowed slightly at what she was hearing.
“Jousin hasn’t told ye all of it,” a new voice chimed in. “They say the king was sliced clear in two.”
King Zryan is dead? Surprise flared inside her at the news. Had his queen finally tired of his philandering ways and taken a sword to him?
“Not that one, y’fool. The Midnivian king. I heard some creature crawled out of the depths of the dark realm and bit the top half of him clean off.”
“The nightmare king! I bet it was all his doing.”
Sereia heard nothing else. Her peripherals darkened as the room closed in on her. Suddenly, she found the leather corset encasing her ribcage too tight to breathe in, and the ale in her stomach turned to acid, burning at her throat.
Sereia tossed her tankard into the fireplace, causing the flames to sputter and then flare, and her boots hit the roughened floorboards with a thud. She stood quickly and was at the table in a breath’s time, hands slamming down on their table as she leaned in. It wasn’t possible that Travion was dead. While his elder brother was known to be a monster of nightmarish proportions, they were on good terms . . . as far as she had been aware.
Her heart beat rapidly in her chest with dread that threatened to pull her down into a pit of darkness she did not wish to fathom.
“What is this bloody nonsense you’re spouting?” She growled so that her words wouldn’t come out trembling. Her pulse thrummed loudly in her ears, and there was a storm of panic brewing within her.
The men at the table looked surprised at her sudden appearance before them but took it in stride. Sereia was a frequent enough visitor in these ports for her and her behaviors to be known by the locals. She was not spooked by forceful men and did not back down when there was something she wanted or needed. Most recognized that it was better to give in than to go to battle with her. Her mother had always said she was stubborn to a fault, and that had not changed in the one hundred years she’d been away from Midniva.
“The news coming in from the west is that there was a battle in the three realms of the immortal brothers. No one’s sure who started it, but they say many were lost.”
“King Travion.” Her voice shook lightly on his name. “He was killed?”
“Killed? I’d say so!” said the youngest at the table, a man with half an ear missing and a gold ring in one nostril.
The man who’d been speaking shot him an annoyed look. “I never said he died. Just that he was attacked by one of them dark creatures from the pits of the afterlife. They say his dark brother betrayed him, and the light king as well.”
What could have happened for King Draven to betray his brothers? Had the darkness of Andhera twisted him into something so menacing that even once-beloved brothers were no longer safe? While there was no love lost between him and Sereia, there had never been a rift between King Zryan of the light realm, King Draven of the dark realm, and King Traven of the middle realm. Could something have taken place between the brothers to result in not only an attack but death?
The thought of Travion, bloodied and torn, drawing in his last breaths while she lay thousands of leagues away, made it hard to breathe. The men at the table were eyeing Sereia oddly, waiting for her to respond, and perhaps wondering what was going through her mind.
Sereia said nothing, only straightened up and strode quickly across the room to where her first mate sat face deep in a pair of voluptuous breasts. The wench was producing such moans there was no doubt they were the kind bought and paid for. Sereia kicked his chair leg hard enough to make it lurch a little and rouse him from his foreplay. Adrik lifted his head with a snarl, a heavy glare on his face until he realized who was disturbing him.
“Aye, Captain?” he muttered, arms still tight around the wench’s waist.
“Plans have changed. We set sail at dawn.”
“The storm . . . they say it’s meant to last.”
Sereia continued to stare down at him without blinking. Storm be damned, there was no time to wait. If she ever wished to breathe properly again, she needed answers now.
“But you promised the crew a week of shore leave—” His words died off as he caught the hardening look in her eyes. “Aye, Captain. I’ll make sure it’s known. What heading will we be taking?”
“West. We head to Midniva.”