World Leapers Book I: The Forest

The Princesses

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The deck of The Devil was eerily quiet. There was the sloshing of water against the sides of the ship, the whistling of cold, dark sea air through sails and netting and the creak of broken planks attached to the severed ropes that now dangled from the damaged mainmast.  

The deck was also littered with the bodies and blood of Seafarers. Some of the bodies were simply limp and broken from being dashed against the ship from dozens of feet high. But most were more disconcerting, with twisted, terrified faces and mouths still locked in the shape of a death scream, purple and red skin covered in poisoned lesions and seeping wounds inflicted by the tentacles of the sea monster, and limbs half ripped from joints adorned with frayed bone and torn strips of flesh.

Terran couldn't take a deep breath. Seconds went by. Maybe minutes. His lungs would only half fill, and although his whole body was trembling, his white-knuckled fingers refused to release the deck rail. He could feel mucus and seawater dripping from his chin, and something else sticky and salty. He could see Tink, laying on his back, staring wide-eyed at the sky, hands clutching his dagger again, his chest slowly rising and falling. He could see River, face down, collapsed near the stern of the ship.

Everything was moving slowly. Finger by finger, Terran unwrapped his hand from the rail. He wiped his chin. Blood. He pushed himself up from his stomach and into a kneeling position, then lunged with one leg forward and stood, finally taking a deep breath. He ran his hands over his head and his face, and didn't feel the sharp sting of any cuts, but when he pulled his hand away, there was more blood. Then he remembered and looked down at the half-torso splayed on the deck beside him. This wasn't his blood. His stomach turned sour again and he bent forward to wretch, but nothing came out. For a moment, he stood there with both hands on his knees, saliva dripping onto the deck, dry-heaving, then he straightened and fumbled for the ladder.

"Riv! Riv! Riv!" He crawled backward down the ladder, shouting River's name with each rung. Then he was flying through the air. The missing ladder rungs. The back of his shoulder hit the deck and stabbing needles shot down into his hand and fingers. He sprung up, clutching his arm to his side and kept stumbling toward River.

Terran slid to his knees and with one good hand, shoved River onto his back. The body felt cold and hard. "Brother, can you hear me?" He dropped his ear to the left side of River's chest. He couldn't feel a throbbing, but couldn't be sure. He brought his cheek up against his brother's lips. All he felt was cold air.

Then a gasp. It wasn't against his cheek, but behind him. He straightened and looked back. Already standing, Tink was there, still gasping for breath, finding his air. His forehead was scraped and bleeding, and his skin was bright crimson where the outline of the tightly wrapped tentacle still remained. "Young Terr-" He hacked, took another deep breath, then rasped, "Young Terran, is River breathing?"

Terran's face contorted. He didn't want to cry again, but the tears came anyway. "I don't know." He looked away from Tink and toward the rear cabin of the ship. "I don't know, and I don't know if his heart is beating, and I don't know if he's dead." He crumpled his aching fingers and shoved tears aside. Why do I always have to cry?