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Salt and Blood - Chapter 17
🕑 Added 2024-09-24 01:39:06 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 16 | Table of Contents | Chapter 18 >>
1.17 - Washed Away
Being inside a convergence is sort of like dreaming. It feels like you have infinite power at your fingertips, but every time you try to actually do something it slips from your grasp. I usually escape with a great deal of benefits, but at the cost of a portion of my wits.
-Quoted from The Unchained Bard, Captain of the Six Symphonies
Trent had told her not to worry until he could be certain. That hadn’t helped much. The nerves ruined the delicious fish she had been looking forward to.
On the flipside, Rose was ecstatic. She had learnt more about the world in the last five minutes than she had during the first fifteen years of her life. The inner workings of the tide and the world laid bare.
She was sure that one of the scholars from Tidespire Keep would be able to explain it more eloquently than the pirate, but it was enough to leave her hungry for adventure. A whole other dimension to explore. I don’t even know what a dimension is!
Trent had said it was like another world that was inside this one but not really. It was all rather confusing but the main take away had been that there was opportunity and danger in equal measure inside each convergence.
Another chance to skyrocket her skills beyond her years had fallen into her lap. And she was going to die of thirst before she could do anything about it.
“I think it’s time we explored the corners of the island we left untouched. There has to be fresh water somewhere,” she said. “And I sort of want to see more of the beautiful blue forest, even knowing that it’s going to be dangerous.”
“If it’s water you’re worried about, then I know a handy sailor’s trick to get drinkable water from the sea. I love your youthful sense of adventure, though. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing his hat from the sand and putting it on his head while walking towards the vibrant forest.
Rose threw another pile of fresh leaves onto the fire before she followed Trent into the forest. It had been billowing thick black smoke into the clear blue sky for the past few days.
Though with the discovery that they might be stuck inside a convergence she realised it had probably been a pointless endeavour to try and signal any passing ships– they wouldn’t be able to see the island from outside. It gave her a little glimmer of hope to see the fire burning away, however. So she would make sure it kept blazing.
The mossy carpet was even more blue than it had been on the first day. Only a few stubborn patches of green held out against the azure advance. Strange phenomena indeed.
As they walked through the forest the air grew thicker and droplets of water began to condense on Rose’s skin. She brushed her hands along the soft bark of the trees, giggling at the way they changed colour in response to her gentle touch.
Trent had said there was nothing more dangerous than a convergence at sea, but she thought it was more magical than anything she had ever seen. Her curiosity got the better of her and she poked one of the flat blue mushrooms.
It shrivelled inwards, recoiling from her finger. “Everything here is so wonderfully odd,” she said.
“Stop. Don’t move. Don’t even breathe,” whispered Trent with his hand outstretched towards her.
She followed his instructions and froze, but then felt something brushing against her fingertips and giggled out loud. Rose managed to suppress the noise right away but the damage had been done.
There was a crunch as a large branch exploded, showering the two of them with splinters. A flash of blue. Trent grunted as something huge slammed into him and he flew backwards, crumpling against another tree.
Blue splattered outwards across the trunk where he landed like a poor piece of modern art. What?
Trent’s legs twitched once and then fell still. He groaned as though he was nursing a hangover and his eyes flickered in and out of consciousness.
Rose dragged her eyes away from the struggling pirate and turned her gaze to the beast which had struck him from the forest. How did we not see that until it got so close?
What little sunlight could pierce through the thick canopy sparkled as it refracted into a thousand glittering beams through two sprawling crystalline antlers. Rose swallowed her gasp, but it caught in her throat and she started to splutter. The stag swivelled its head, locking two abyssal black eyes with her own.
They drank in the light from the sun, enthralling her in their depths.
Bang.
The crack of a pistol shattered the eerie silence and the stag buckled as the shot blew into its hind leg. Seconds later the acrid whiff of gunpowder smoke tingled in her nostrils and she looked back to the still crippled Trent.
He had shifted himself into a sitting position and though he seemed unable to use his legs yet, his focused glare and white-knuckled grip on the smoking flintlock pistol were testament to his tenacity. Rose knew she wouldn’t have recovered from such a heavy blow so fast.
A muffled thump, then another came from her right and she saw the stag stomping its injured leg against the mossy forest floor. Electric blue blood dripped from the entry wound, a vibrant contrast to its umber coat of fur.
It snorted and shook its head violently before charging at Trent.
“Shit,” he cursed. “A little help would be fan-fucking-tastic right about now, Rose.” As he spoke he gave his all to shuffling away from the tree and out of the stag’s line of fire, but it seemed likely he wouldn’t make it in time.
She reached down to her belt. Crap. In the chaos of battle and being blown overboard, the cutlass had been flung from her grip and she was left without a weapon. Or was she?
Clumps of moss and dirt were thrown into the air with every stride the stag took. It had lowered its head and was lining its glistening antlers up to pierce straight through Trent and the tree along with him. She desperately rummaged around in her jacket, praying to Sylack it was still where she stowed it.
Why she chose the God of Fish and Fishermen in this situation was a mystery, but he was the deity she had been tied to the longest and he had always kept her father safe. Perhaps his domain would stretch to cover her ass here.
Trent had put in a valiant effort and somehow managed to drag himself half out of the way of the stag’s charge, but not far enough to escape it completely. Her fingers bumped against something cold and hard. Rose grinned, whipped the pistol from her jacket and aimed it in the rough direction of the beast, not wasting time with precision.
There was a click as the trigger touched the varnished handle. The stag’s hoof smashed into the mossy carpet and tore out another clump. She had forgotten to prime the hammer. Idiot. Her fingers shook as she rushed to pull back the little piece of metal.
It snapped into place with a click. She didn’t even have time to look where she was aiming this time and simply pulled the trigger as soon as she heard the sound. Bang. The stag jerked sideways.
Skill up!
Pistols 1 > 2
Leaves showered them from the canopy and wood blew in every direction as the beast smashed through the trunk of the tree, the sharp points of its antlers carving a deep gash in Trent’s shoulders. It could've been far worse. He grunted and flopped onto his belly, digging through a pouch slung from his belt.
He pulled a pinch of grey powder from the leather drawstring bag and sprinkled it into a hole on the top of his pistol. The stag bellowed in fury as it tossed and turned. Its antler was buried in the tree and it seemed unable to pull itself free.
“Trent, throw me the gunpowder.” Rose hadn’t felt as much of a kick from that last shot as she had back on the Unrequited Love. Her powder must have been damp or less explosive on a second use. It wasn’t likely to work a third time.
“One-” he grunted while fiddling with the firing mechanism and trying to untie the pouch at the same time. “Second.” As soon as he clicked the hammer back he pointed the pistol at the wounded beast and fired.
Her ears started to ring. The dull companion had faded away at some point, but with all the loud, sudden noises they resumed their constant protest.
It wasn’t helped by the deafening bellows of the stag, a screeching blend of pain and rage that rustled the leaves and scared a few birds out of the canopy. They added their squawks of annoyance to the cacophony and in the distance she could hear more rustling in the trees. They had disturbed the peace and the forest was stirring.
Trent placed his pistol on his leg to focus on untying the pouch. He tossed it to her once he succeeded in undoing the knots and she stumbled forwards in her poor attempt to catch it. As she dipped her fingers in to take some of the grey powder out, there was a crunch as the stag tore its antler loose.
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