Karadra's Shipwreck

The Ship - Chapter 18

That night, the sky ceaselessly lit up by quick and violent flashes. Purple lightning bolts struck the sea, close and far. The vessel teetered on gigantic waves, scraped the rocks around it and continued its dangerous course towards the depths of this hellish sea.

The captain had discouraged them from going on deck. There would be no peace anymore, and probably no dawn either. As they neared the heart of the Vespia Sea, the magically created darkness around them thickened dishearteningly, breaking only at times by the equally unnatural weather.

They were getting close.

A nervous silence reigned among the crew members. Karadra had completely withdrawn to herself. Locked in her cabin, she neither ate nor spoke. The captain’s mood was as volatile as an angry bull’s and as fragile as a tower of sand. The wrong comment would send any of them flying into the water, therefore he didn’t speak to anyone. It was a ghost ship. Only Arthax climbed on deck from time to time, looking around, a figure in the dark, huge and slow.

Arsik seethed. His forehead felt as heavy as an anvil. He couldn’t see in front of him. He walked on the deck in circles, went back to his room. He couldn’t stand still, couldn’t drink – all he could do was restlessly pace. His heart beat like a drum in his chest, burning with the desire to see her, to touch her. He’d never felt anything like this, so much suffering. He found himself incapable of doing anything else.

The hours passed torturously. He kept hoping for some small miracle. For the knock on his door. The little time he managed to sit in his room, he kept staring at it insistently, but nothing happened.

Maestra’s door remained shut, sealed. They were only a room apart, but he felt like entire worlds separated them. Despair had taken root inside him. He wished he could go to Karadra, ask her to slip into his mind, his heart, and erase everything or bring him some peace; turn off his thoughts, his emotions, anything, so he could live, so he could exist, because the suffering he experienced now was unfamiliar and impossible to handle.

But Karadra was out of his reach, burdened by the weight of too much, by the weight of too many souls. He couldn’t dump his troubles upon her shoulders too.

In the darkness of his mind, he started considering different scenarios. One thought gave birth to the next, branched out, and soon, his mind was overwhelmed by ideas welling up from an insecure, suspicious and wounded side of himself.

He blamed her. Arsik didn’t know why, but he considered her responsible for his misery. He felt she’d deceived him, used him even. Ridiculous, it sounded, and yet, he felt it. Why wouldn’t she see him? Why had she created this distance? Whatever it was that she was going through, he could face it with her. She had saved him. He would kill for her. Why didn’t she allow him to help her and repay the favor? He wanted nothing more.

Unable to bear this any longer, he got up and went to her door. His whole body danced to the heartbeat hammering inside him. A fire burned his insides and his head. He couldn’t think clearly; anger and sadness had completely taken over – a new darkness had claimed him.

Arsik banged his fist on the door, receiving no answer. “Maestra!” he shouted. “Open up, please!”

He persisted, attached to the door. No sound came from inside. Then, he heard her voice, muffled through the wooden walls. “Go away, Arsik… This isn’t the right time.”

She sounded weak. Arsik touched his forehead on the wood. “I’m not leaving, Maestra. Open the door, I want to talk to you. Open the door or I swear I’ll break it.”

Silence ensued. Arsik pounded his fist on the wood, and then hit his forehead on it too.

He heard her voice; she was crying. He listened to her mourning in the dark and his heart shattered. Before he could form another thought, he shoved at the door with all his might. Once, twice – it gave way. Arsik slipped into her room like a thief.

Maestra was sitting on the bed. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, her clothes torn. Bruises had bloomed on her skin. The nightstand had been broken into pieces, same as the bed. One of its legs had collapsed, giving it a strange tilt.

Maestra looked at him, sobbing. Arsik had frozen, bewildered by the sight of the room. “What… What is all this?”

“Leave! Leave, you fool!” she screamed, startling him. Everyone on the ship would hear her. This outburst was completely unexpected. Arsik stumbled backwards, confused.

Her hand was on her shoulder. When she removed it to cover her face, Arsik spotted blood on it. Coming closer, he saw more of it on her shoulder. “Maestra… What is this?”

She answered in a language he didn’t understand.

“What? I don’t understand, who did this?”

Maestra darted to the other side of the bed when he came near her, screaming and crying. Arsik started panicking.

When she turned her back to him, he saw a long wound and his world went dark.

The wound started on the back of her neck and ended at her waist, deep as a gorge, fresh blood welling up. The size of the gash indicated it’d been inflicted by some wild beast, a tiger or even a bear.

Bear claws…

Arsik’s pupils dilated and he saw less and less clearly. His mouth formed an involuntary smile. The vein on his forehead popped up. The muscles on his arms bulged, his whole body becoming larger as something inside him was awakening. His blood boiled, his nose and lips twitching restlessly.

The sight frightened Maestra. “No, Arsik, it’s not what you think! Don’t give in to it!”

In vain – he couldn’t hear her anymore, as if he had no ears or eyes. He certainly didn’t have a brain anymore.

Maestra froze. She saw Arsik’s tunic shirt being ripped open at his shoulders without him making the slightest move. She witnessed his back growing larger.

Arsik bolted out of the room, while Maestra was screaming after him. “Arsik! No! No!”

He climbed on deck like a beast on the prowl. A thousand shades of purple streaked the sky. A ferocious wind was blowing, filling the sails, straining the ropes that kept everything a minute away from disaster. The ship was a besieged wooden castle.

Arthax stood by the main mast, a boulder in the storm. Arsik descended upon him like a hurricane. The creature didn’t have time to react; it spun around and looked at him, but his arms were too low.

Arsik shoved him towards the mast. The creature’s sword clanked against the wood; the monster roared as the blade cut his back, and he glared at Arsik. There was fear in his eyes, Arsik could tell, as well as surprise; the Sarkanta hadn’t expected this attack.

Arthax opened his mouth. A long, forked tongue shot out along inarticulate cries as Arsik squeezed his neck with unprecedented strength. But in a moment, he lost his grasp. Arthax removed Arsik’s hands from his thick, scaly neck, surprised by the resistance he met. He grabbed Arsik by his neck. Sharp claws penetrated his flesh, drawing blood. Arsik choked and lost control immediately. He tried to free himself from the Sarkanta’s grasp but couldn’t move a finger.

Arthax lifted him up into the air, slowly. Arsik’s feet moved like running on an invisible road as his body lost its newly acquired size. Arthax stared into his eyes, and Arsik could see Death himself painted inside the serpent’s yellow irises. He choked out unintelligible words. Arthax squeezed and Arsik started seeing a faint white light. The sound of the storm seemed to be dying around him.

The Sarkanta opened its mouth. Sparks swarmed inside it. The smell of smoke suffocated Arsik even more as he saw liquid fire forming inside the dragon’s throat.

“Arthax! Let him go! Arthax! Please!”

Maestra’s cries sounded distant in Arsik’s ears as he was losing grasp of the world around him.

“Arthax! Please! It’s not his fault!”

The creature’s hand slowly relaxed. A moment later, it opened, and Arsik collapsed on his back on the floor, like an empty bag.

Not strong enough to move even the tiniest part of him, he stared at the sky, watching the purple lightning bolts interweaving in silence while he swallowed his own blood.

Maestra bent over him. She was speaking but he couldn’t hear her. Her figure was vague, her eyes two wet almonds. She picked him up again, as she had done the first time, and Arsik remembered the beach that night, before they’d come on board. Once more, she carried him towards the room. Arsik felt her embrace, smelled her perfume.

She was bringing him back to life, again.