Tides of Torment (Immortal Realms Book 2)
Tides of Torment: Chapter 11

Precious air escaped Travion as the boat thrashed. He tried to relax, but given the situation, that wasn’t an option. His lungs burned for more air, and it didn’t matter how many years he’d spent diving deep in the sea or how many times his father had held his head beneath the water hoping to urge a new ability to the surface.

Travion didn’t have gills. And he was currently every bit the hindrance Sereia hadn’t wanted. But how many crew members could endure this—or call upon the aid of nearby sea creatures?

The floating jellyfish illuminated the hull of the ship, and Travion saw Sereia get tossed aside, but to his horror, a rusted cannon hurled toward her. Unable to shout, he pushed himself through the water, but she shifted at the last moment, narrowly escaping the crushing weight.

A cluster of jellyfish swarmed next to the hole in the ship, then, in a rush, the light extinguished. That meant one thing: the blasted serpent was making its rounds again.

Wasting no time, Travion attempted to reach out to the serpent, hoping to coax it into peace with his mind. Typically, he felt the emotions of the beasts of the sea, saw through their eyes, and with that, he could control them. But this creature possessed a wall of resistance.

Unable to tap into its mind, Travion gave up and propelled himself toward Sereia. He grabbed her by the arms, and relief washed over her face. Travion leaned in and cemented his lips against hers, allowing her breath to pass into him. Once his lungs were filled with air once again, his hand cupped her face. He slanted her a look, which she read as it was intended. Are you okay?

She nodded.

In the distance, he could hear the orcas’ low, pulsing call. He didn’t need to direct them, for they were the wolves of the sea, and hunting—as well as attacking—was a game for them. The serpent had angered the pod by injuring one of their own.

Thud, thud, whoosh, thud.

The whooshing this deep was dull, but there was no missing the pod’s aggressive attacks. Travion glanced out of the hole just in time to see an orca bite into the tail end of the sea beast. Except the serpent was too close.

The beast snapped its tail against the wreck, shifting it again, and the serpent’s cry pierced the water.

Travion grimaced, twisting to see the snapped mast shifting as the ship tilted again. He shoved his hands against the wooden hull, but his eyes darted from Sereia to the splintered piece of wood heading straight toward her.

By the sea!

Panic rose within him, and the need to shove the mast-turned-missile out of the way urged him to dart forward. He cut through the water, struggling against the burning in his lungs as his body ran dangerously low on oxygen. He knew his limits, and he was pushing them.

Bubbles escaped his mouth as he rammed into the wood, redirecting its path.

Every moment that ticked by only seemed to make the growing aches in his body more pronounced, but as he stared at the mast, a thought occurred to him.

They could use the mast. If they could lure the sea serpent into the ship and time it just right . . .

With the orcas already in the area, and the addition of Velox’s pod, it would be enough of a distraction. One they desperately needed.

He swallowed down the burning need for his lungs to suck in air and forced his mind to calm. Just a moment more.

Travion mentally reached into the sea, and it was like dipping his hand into a bowl of strings. Each one was a life form that he could call to, and they whispered to him, letting him know what they were.

Moments later, the whooping trill of Velox with his pod cut through the scraping sound of the ship sliding across the seafloor.

The serpent screeched again.

Travion chanced a glance out a small window and regretted it. The ship now teetered precariously close to a crevice. If it plunged over the side, he was as good as dead, and Sereia would be at the mercy of whatever wretched fates watched on.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head, then, opening them, he turned to catch Sereia’s gaze. Travion lifted his hands and mimed their current predicament.

The stream of curses flowing from her lips weren’t muted by the sea. Sereia motioned to her chest, and he caught her meaning. She knew he desperately needed air again.

She swam toward him, secured her lips to his, and passed a mouthful of air to him, then another, but when she attempted to pull back, he halted her.

Travion motioned to Velox, then mimed him darting in and them shoving the mast toward the serpent.

Sereia nodded, grim determination hardening her expression.

If the fates were kind, they’d both make it out of this alive.

The serpent cried as the orcas continued their assault. Travion called to Velox, and the hippocampus swam close to the hole in the ship, his clever eyes watching his rider. As best he could, Travion relayed the plan to his mount.

Velox trilled lowly. A sound that Travion knew to be one of displeasure. But they didn’t have a choice. One more whip of the serpent’s tail, and the wreck would tumble over the crevice, and he and Sereia would be gone.

He gritted his teeth, and a knot formed in his stomach. Velox was quick and had survived many a foolish battle, but Travion would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried.

The hippocampus swam away, calling to his pod, weaving through the furious orcas.

Grunting, Travion manipulated the mast, using the floor of the wreck to steady it. He focused on the beasts under his command, relaying orders to herd the serpent toward them.

The grating moan of the serpent’s anger filled the area, and Travion motioned for Sereia to join him. Together, they shifted the mast into place, steadying it. The moments passed by excruciatingly slowly, but then Velox darted into the hull, zipping to the farthest side.

There was a blur of movement, then the serpent bolted inside, nearly slamming into Travion and Sereia. The rush of water was enough to send the mast tumbling down, even with the two of them steadying it.

Damn it to the depths!

Velox, feeling cornered and frightened, darted from the wreck and into open water, but the serpent’s attention was on him instead of inside the wreck.

Dread unfurled in Travion. They couldn’t allow it to escape the hull.

He peered over his shoulder and motioned for Sereia to swim into view of the creature, then out the hole behind him if she could.

She nodded her understanding, and in a rush, she cut through the water, in front of Travion, then back toward him, darting through the hole.

The furious serpent opened its mouth as it rounded on him, bolting forward. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to steady the mast, and his lungs felt as though they’d burst. Seconds ticked by, and his vision narrowed, but he was bent on ending this abomination.

Whether the creature believed it could avoid the large spear-like object or simply didn’t care, Travion didn’t know, but as it sped toward him, it didn’t change its course and impaled itself on the broken mast.

The force of the blow sent Travion against the side of the ship, and his body crashed through it. Splinters pierced his back, and the mast shoved into his shoulder with such force, he heard something snap.

Stunned by the force, he sucked in a breath—or rather, a lungful of water. Calm yourself, Travion, calm yourself. But sea below, it was hard. He blinked, trying to focus on the serpent. The blasted thing was dead, but the weight of the corpse and mast were much like an anchor, dragging him down into the crevice.

Every part of his body screamed, and as much as he wanted to call out to Velox—to anything—he couldn’t string together a coherent thought.

The last thing he recalled was water bubbling beneath him furiously, like a volcano was readying to erupt. Then his vision faded, and he knew no more.

The sound of the crew crying out orders sounded so distant, but then there was Sereia’s voice, and Travion couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.

His lungs felt full and heavy, he was unable to breathe. Travion coughed and rolled over as he vomited seawater. Then the pain bloomed in his arm and back, he groaned hoarsely. Finally, his eyes opened, and blurred faces stared down at him.

Sereia cupped his face gently. “By the sea, don’t ever do that again!” Her voice broke as she leaned her forehead against his, pausing for a moment before sitting back up.

“W-what . . .” Travion’s voice was hoarse from the salt water.

“Your shoulder is dislocated, and you have half a ship’s worth of wood in you,” Finn offered, and his voice shook with concern. “Sereia gave you breath, but Your Grace.” He lowered his voice so none of the crew could hear him. “You nearly died.”

Travion lifted his good arm and draped it over his face, blocking out the sun’s too-bright rays. “But I didn’t.”

“Have a care with yourself,” Finn bit out. “There are countless people who care for you, including myself.”

“Truly,” Sereia breathed out.

Slowly, he sat up, then wished he hadn’t. But as his last moments in the sea tumbled around in his head, something didn’t make sense. “How did I make it to the surface again?” He supposed Velox could have fetched him . . .

“Oh, you shot out of the sea like a fae-missile.” Finn mimed it, adding the sound of an explosion, then the splatter of Travion hitting the deck. “Sereia. It was the captain.” He popped his lips when he only received a glare from Sereia.

“What?” He glanced at her, wondering how she’d propelled him from the sea with such force. “How?”

“I can control the sea.” She said it quietly, as though she didn’t want to have this conversation now.

And neither did he. “The walls of water earlier,” he murmured, even more memories returning. Travion lacked energy in every way, and his body screamed. He nearly wished he could fade into the darkness again. “So, we both have secrets,” he managed to say through clenched teeth as a fresh wave of pain shot through him. “Finn, I need you to set my shoulder. I can’t function like this.” His voice shook.

His guard nodded and moved closer, grabbing ahold of Travion’s left arm. “On three,” he warned. “One, two—” Except Finn didn’t pop his arm back into place on three, he did it on two.

Travion howled in pain and fought to grab his guard by the scruff of his shirt. “You said three! You bastard.”

Finn’s pale brows pinched at the insult. “My mother would very much disagree with that,” Finn said, as if scolding Travion, then he shrugged. There wasn’t an ounce of remorse on his face. “Besides, you would have been tense at three.”

Sereia laughed, but then inhaled sharply. Pain marred her face. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“What’s wrong?” His bruises and aches were still there, but at the moment, all Travion cared about was that she was okay. When he leaned back, he caught sight of a deep red and purple bruise already blooming on her side and back.

Unfortunately, the crew consisted of humans, minus Finn, and his affinity wasn’t in healing but rather in working with the earth, which did them no good in the middle of a damn sea.

“It’s my ribs. When we were being tossed around, I think they were too.” She drew in a shaky breath.

“You’ve got a nasty bruise.” He closed his eyes and mustered the strength to stand. Sereia stepped forward, steadying him with a hand.

Finn looked ready to catch Travion at a moment’s notice. “The captain said you were able to kill the serpent?”

“It was almost the other way around.” He groaned as he leaned to grab his clothing, but Finn snatched them up and held them out. His underclothes were wet, but it wasn’t something he’d fuss over. The mood was far too heavy for Travion’s liking, as if the crew had already lost him. With a sigh, he cast a glance over the rail. “It’s a bloody shame such a trophy went to waste.”

Finn cocked his head as if Travion had sprouted an extra limb. “You’re upset about leaving the corpse on the seafloor?”

Sereia tried to hold back a laugh, which just came out as small hisses. “Yes. Skin like that would’ve made an exceptional pair of boots.” She huffed a pained breath.

With his pain only increasing as his wits returned, and with Sereia in clear discomfort, now wasn’t the time for jesting. “We need Chailai’s assistance.”

Sereia shifted her jaw. “She tends to you first.” Her tone brooked no room for an argument.

“I’m going,” he muttered as he gingerly crossed the deck and took the stairs down into the depths of the ship. He entered Chailai’s room, Sereia following behind.

Oil lamps swayed with the rocking sea, and Chailai sat beside the sleeping naval officer’s form.

“How is he?” Travion frowned as he walked up to the table, where the man lay cushioned by blankets and pillows to keep him from rolling.

Chailai’s eyes were a bottomless brown verging on black, lined by thick dark lashes. A beautiful woman by anyone’s standards. She caught him assessing her, and her brow furrowed. “It’s hard to say. He took in a lot of water, and he was stranded for days. It may yet still take a toll on him. Fortunately, he didn’t sustain any other injuries.”

Sereia stepped up to the table, a frown wrinkling her brow. “What does he need? What can we do?”

“Time, mostly. Or a fae healer.”

“Of course,” Travion muttered. The Speedwell had those with wind and water affinities, but the healer on The Saorsa was human and had no true healing abilities. “May the fates have mercy on him, because we are far from land.”

“I’m doing what I can.” Chailai’s words held a bite to them. Apparently, he’d ruffled her feathers, which he hadn’t meant to do.

“I realize—” Travion started.

“Enough.” Sereia glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Chailai, before Travion decides to jump ship again, can you see to his injuries? He has half a wreck’s lumber in him.”

The pain had blossomed into a stinging burn, and it spread from his shoulder to his back. He wasn’t going to argue about being cared for, because he needed to be in prime condition for the journey. Hopefully, this was as exciting as today would get. “Don’t let your captain avoid being tended to. She needs her ribs checked.”

Sereia crossed the floor and reached to open a wooden cabinet along the wall. Inside, there were several small shelves, with some holding sliding drawers. She rummaged through them, glass bottles clinking together as she searched. When she found what she was looking for, she twisted the stopper and pulled out the dropper; a dark amber liquid bubbled at the end of it. Lifting her tongue, she deposited two drops. “See? I’ve been seen to. Now it’s your turn. Don’t make me pin you down.”

Her words garnered a smile from him, then a chuckle. Travion wouldn’t complain overly much if she did.

“Since the table is occupied, you’ll have to sit here.” Chailai pointed to a cushioned chair, and the tight expression she wore brooked no argument from Travion. However, he was still of a mind to be obstinate.

He plopped down in the chair. The sound of Sereia’s feet on the floor had him following her movements until she sat down next to him. “Should I hold your hand?” Without waiting, she reached forward, scooped up his hand, then ran her fingers along his palm.

The soft, featherlight touches on his palm soothed him. Travion wished they could’ve remained locked inside his bedchamber for several more days to do as they pleased. Whether it was reacquainting themselves with one another or relaying stories of the past five years. He didn’t care. He only wanted to absorb as much of Sereia as he could.

“I may need you to—” A sharp burning pain blossomed in his shoulder. “Why doesn’t anyone warn me?” He twisted his head, shooting Chailai an accusatory glance. “You are no gentler than Finn.” Travion clenched his teeth as tweezers dug into the wound on his back. The scrape of the metal against his flesh didn’t feel delightful.

Once the splinters were removed, Chailai opened a jar containing a red poultice. It didn’t smell like much of anything, but the consistency was similar to tar. “This will speed up your recovery and also disinfect.” She gingerly smeared it over his wound and around it. In a few moments, Travion’s skin tingled. “Try not to rush into battle any time soon.”

“You clearly don’t know me,” Travion remarked with a weak grin.

“Don’t tempt him.” Sereia shook her head. The salt-crusted pieces of her hair dangled in her face. He reached out, brushing them back and tucking them into place. “He is even more reckless than I am.”

“Great,” Chailai grumbled. “I should have packed more supplies.”

All Travion could do was laugh. It was true that he was reckless. He often hurled himself into precarious situations. It didn’t always serve him well, but sometimes it paid off. But if he had time to dissect the reasoning, it’d likely stem from the fact he trusted few, and those he did, he wanted to spare.

There was one thing he was learning on this journey rather swiftly, and that was that Sereia was a force to be reckoned with. He needed to trust in her abilities if he wanted the same in return.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.