It must've been an hour, but it felt like days. The backs of Wesley's hands were beaded with blood, and the pain was a constant reminder of the creatures that lurked just beyond the walls, thirsty for their blood.
The room they hid in was bolted shut, but a huge slam against it caused Wesley's eyes to fling open. He stayed where he was, but his eyes became glued to the door.
When the slam came again, Wesley pulled his hands away from his father's, causing the man to grunt as the full force of the assault came at him again. Wesley reached for his sword as he stood, realizing that while the backs of his hands were drenched in his own blood, his palms were slick with his father's. Quickly wiping the red on his trousers, Wesley barely had enough time to draw his sword from the sheath at his hip before the door began to splinter. Another hit had the hinges ripping from the wood. A final hit had the door twisting open at an angle it definitely wasn't intended to.
Wesley stepped back as a trident flew into the room with more force than he believed he'd be able to muster. He supposed that made sense, since sirens lived underwater where there was more resistance to fight against.
It made even more sense when its owner followed behind it.
He had to be the largest man Wesley had ever seen. He was at least seven feet tall and bulging with muscle. He wore armor around his chest and legs, but his arms and head were notably void of protection. Likely, Wesley supposed, because there weren't any options that were large enough.
The man grinned, showing of two rows of very sharp teeth that Wesley was glad his own siren hadn't inherited.
"You were right, Isadora. There are wielders in here," he said, yanking a chain that pulled a small woman with dark skin and stunningly blue eyes through the door. She grabbed at her neck, where the chains imprisoned her, and kept her eyes glued to the floor. "Take care of them."
Wesley held his sword up, ready for a fight, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"You handle the ships," his father held the shells, both in one hand, out to his son. "I've got this."
Wesley didn't have time to question it as the woman threw what looked like lightning in their direction. Ambrose's free arm threw up some sort of clear barrier that absorbed the energy and protected them from what would've been a particularly unpleasant impact.
Realizing it was a fight he definitely wasn't prepared for, Wesley quickly replaced his sword and transferred the shells into his own hands. Immediately the pricking feeling returned, but at a much greater force now that his father wasn't sharing the load. Wesley returned to where they had sat previously and against his better judgement, closed his eyes to better focus on the ships.
A battle between magic wielder's was surely a sight to behold, but right now, this task was much more important and he couldn't afford any distractions. If he failed, everyone on these ships would die, including himself, and if he died, he was sure Valentine would kill him.
Blasts sounded around him, but he did his best to ignore them. Even though he was angry at Ambrose for his life choices, Wesley found that he trusted the man, and the magical knowledge he had traded his memories for, to keep him safe. He remembered the honorable man from his childhood, even if that man didn't remember him. He would do his part now to keep Wesley safe, and Wesley would do his part to keep the crews of the Queen Adelaide and the Blight of the Sea safe.
He just had to hold on.
"Ah!" He cried out when a force much bigger than a pinprick slammed into the side of one of his hands. It caused him to jerk, and even the ship they floated in lurched from the impact. "What in Seven Hells was that?"
The same hand that had been slammed into began to feel pressure. It was a slow squeezing from all sides that quickly made Wesley worry that his hand would soon be crushed. The force of it burned his already bleeding hand, and when he opened his eyes to see the damage, clear stripes of red, circular suckers were already forming on his skin.
"Kraken!" A voice from topside bellowed.
"Valentine, you better fucking hurry," Wesley muttered under his breath, closing his eyes and concentrating even harder.
----+------+----
A/N
What do you think Valentine's plan is? We'll probably finally start to see it next chapter.
Also we have a very important matter to tend to this week. We are holding elections for the presidency of the Castor Defense Club, a squad of readers dedicated to defending Castor against needless hate in the comments. Below you will find the candidates you can vote for. Please leave your vote in the comment section beside their name and only vote once.
Here you can ask them both questions if desired. Or view their campaign speech if they have created one. >
Thank you for you participation. Take a virtual cookie as a thank you for attending the meeting.
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Have a good Sunday!
-Mora Montgomery
YOU ARE READING
Dark Waters Rising
Fantasy"Very good, Wesley," he breathed, the warm air fanning across the merchant captain's face. "Now I suggest you listen closely because I don't do this very often." Wesley curiosity grew, though he kept a healthy degree of skepticism as he listened to...
