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CHAPTER FIVE: "you've had your fun."
THE DARKLING DID ALWAYS HAVE A TENDENCY to prey on the rare and dangerous and the rusalye was no different. It was all too easy to fall for the beautiful myth to fall into the snare of this trickster as Mercy herself had once done, too enticed by the hand brimming with power to notice the one behind his back holding the dagger.
It felt glorious to now be the one holding the blade, poised to bury it deep in the Darkling's poisonous flesh until he bleed as all men must - bright red and human.
Mercy watched with baited breath as the Sea Whip unleashed it's ephemeral fury on the longboats. She'd never seen a creature move like it, so elegant in it's blaze of white scales, teeth and fins as it swallowed men whole and crushed their boats as if they were made of sand. Soon, the water was red with the blood of both the creature and men alike. It was strangely poetic, that in order to end the life of this thing of legend, the Darkling must give the lives of his own, that the universe still demanded balance. Although, to a man who walked hand in hand with Death, what was a few extra lives in the face of success.
After an armada's worth of munition, the creature was growing tired and lethargic, drowning under the air that flooded it's lungs through the gashes left by harpoons. In the back of her mind, Mercy felt the pull of the Immaculata like a gentle caress and felt the damp kiss of the mist created by one of Sturmhond's Squallers. There were a million ways this haphazard plan of theirs could fail. In reality it was just as likely to end in both her and Sturmhond being feed on by the volcra as it was to end in victory and yet, Mercy had never felt calmer.
Tolya and Tamar edged closer and closer to where the Sun Summoner stood, their muscled forms tense and alert.
Covered by the melancholic cries of the Sea Whip, Sturmhond edged his hand closer to his blade, glancing from crew member to crew member in possibly the most serious he had been since boarding the whaling ship. Finally, his gaze landed on Mercy. "You know what to do?"
"Of course." She plucked a knife from her belt and tossed it one, twice, thrice, all whilst wearing her smile like a loaded gun. "You've had your fun, now let me have mine."
If murder was the Darkling's nature then this was her's: playing dirty and winning. Piracy was a tricky business, dubious and underhand on it's best days, but judging by her success ( and substantial wealth hidden in a Kerch bank ), Mercy could forgive herself for her failings if not to lavish in her triumphs.
Five.
But this was child's play, it was nothing her crew hadn't done a million times to a million different ships.
Four.
The cold calm of a thick fog crept in unnoticed by the Darkling's men, obscuring the ever-approaching Immaculata. Despite his general air of arrogance, Sturmhond did have his moments.
