The Destiny (Blood and Destiny Book 4) (6 page)

Her words were stilted when
they fell, air rushing past her body as they plunged downwards, the dark ground
still too far away to land without breaking bones. Larissa screamed all the way
down, the fall seeming to last longer in her mind than in reality until it
stopped dead. Pain erupted through her torso, her face, her arms, and legs.

She tried to reach out,
but her arm wouldn’t answer. Neither would her neck, and as she attempted to
speak, her mind had other ideas, darkness surrounding the edges of her vision
until she finally succumbed to the end.

Cid emerged from his cell and stood
between Friar Narry and the young woman Sandy. The odd group of people eyed one
another suspiciously as they waited for Kerrigan to return, listening to the
cacophony of battle noises surrounding them on all sides.

“Do you think Larissa
is safe?” Narry whispered as he leaned over his large stomach in an attempt to
get closer to Cid’s ear, which was at least a foot higher than the priest’s
mouth.

“She has a remarkable
talent for getting herself out of awkward and dangerous situations,” Cid said.
It wasn’t really an answer, and he chided himself for not resorting to his
usual bluntness. In truth, he didn’t really know. As much as he’d witnessed her
escape death several times, he wasn’t sure how long the strain of luck would
hold.

“And do you?” Narry
asked.

“Do I what?”

“Have a remarkable
talent for getting yourself out of awkward and dangerous situations?”

“Good question. I’ve
made it this far.”

“I only ask because I’m
not sure if the lucky streak will extend to me. I am not capable of running
across the ship, battling soldiers, and hurling myself into the abyss. I have
neither the desire nor the constitution for such exertion, and I fear my
prayers to the Gods to spare my skin have been too many of late.”

Cid looked down at
Narry as another boom of cannon fire rocked the walls surrounding them. “I
won’t leave you behind, Friar.”

“I wasn’t asking you to
sacrifice your life for me. Just please do me a favour and get a message to the
Dolonite Citadel at Meridina, or even the Citadel in the Capital. Tell them I
was repentant in the end. They may still light a candle for me.” Narry fell to
the floor as the entire ship lurched upwards unexpectedly.

Cid braced his body
against one of the cell doors. “Bloody hell.”

Kerrigan reappeared in
the doorway, his feet slipping down the steps as he gripped onto the walls for
support. “They are distracted with the battle. We can get up to the deck and
slip down a rope to the ground as the ship makes a low dip, but only one, maybe
two at a time. It’s that or we stay here and wait until the battle is over and
hope Vries wins.”

“Who are they
fighting?” Lieutenant Saunders asked.

“Pirates. Too many of
them. The chances of the
Eagle
coming out of this in one piece are
slim.”

“Where is Larissa?” Cid
asked.

“I couldn’t see her.
She may have already left the ship.”

“Who are you trying to
convince? She wouldn’t leave us behind. You know that.”

“I checked the Admiral’s
cabin. She was not there and she is not on deck. We don’t have time to stand
around debating it. Friar Narry, come with me. Saunders, bring your cousin up.
The rest of you wait here until I return.”

Narry thumped Cid on
the shoulder then squeezed past, heading up the steps. More explosions rocked
them from side to side, and Cid felt his pulse thumping as he watched Narry
then Sandy climb the stairs. He stood for a moment, bracing his legs and
gripping the nearest cell bars for stability, staring at the empty space the
others had occupied moments ago.

“Fuck it,” he muttered
as he barged forwards.

“Woah, woah, hold on
there, Mister Engineer.” Kerrigan’s remaining man, Sergeant Boswell, stepped
out in front of him, blocking the exit. “The Colonel clearly said—”

“The Colonel can kiss
my ass. I’m going to find Larissa.”

“Yeah, and I want off.
He ain’t my Colonel,” the remaining pirate in their group, Zeb, said as he
stood shoulder to shoulder with Cid. Cid grunted. He did not want to be
associated with that man in any way.

“You will risk the
entire escape if you go up there running about. If someone spots you—”

“Fuck you,” Zeb yelled,
and he launched forwards, barrelling into Boswell. The two men toppled to one
side, landing punches and legs flailing aimlessly as they battled both each
other and the erratic movements of the ship. A fleeting thought crossed Cid’s
mind to jump in and help, though he wasn’t sure whose side he was on. His legs
had other ideas as they raced forwards, seemingly of their own accord, stepping
over the pair of men and heading up the staircase.

He reached the lower
gun deck; the air was thick with the smell of discharged gunpowder and sweat.
Groups of bodies hunched over cannons, men yelled commands from their stations
nearby, an endless stream of people pushed and pulled heavy machinery across
the deck, fighting against the impossible dipping and rising of the airship.
Cid crouched beside an empty gun rack and looked as far in each direction as he
could, not really expecting to find Larissa there but certain he should take
care to check just in case. The ship was unreasonably long, and he could only
see so far before the view was blocked by too many men moving at once. The
nearest gun crew yelled a call of readiness to their commander, who ordered
them to fire. The explosion rattled through his head and left a high-pitched whining
noise in its place. He took the momentary distraction to rush forwards and
climb the next steep flight of stairs.

The mid-deck was the
same level of measured chaos. He almost tripped over a body lying prone across
the top of the stairwell. The poor Marine was missing half his face, bubbles of
blood popping from the wound extending to his throat. Even if he hadn’t been
trying to escape, there was little Cid could do for the man. The mid-deck had
taken a battering from cannon fire, holes ripped in either side and opening out
to the night sky. A glimpse of an opposing ship body came into view before
tipping out of sight. Cid scuttled up the next flight of steps, silently
cursing himself for not checking carefully enough to see if Larissa was around.

The steps opened out
into a corridor, and while yet more men manned cannons on this level, there was
a line of rooms up ahead that he hoped would lead to the Admiral’s cabin. Cid
raced forwards, his feet tripping with every step. Everyone appeared too busy
and focused on their fight to notice a wayward prisoner running through the
ship. He reached the door at the farthest end; a brass plaque framed into the
wood read
Admiral Vries
. He barged through the door, half expecting it
to be locked, but as the door fell inwards, it became evident Larissa was not
inside.

Still, the explosions
rocked on and the ship swung from side to side, up and down, bringing the
contents of his stomach up into his throat. A deck of cards were strewn across
the floor, scooting from one end of the cabin to the other. Cid grunted out
loud, wondering if perhaps Holt had already done the job of rescuing Larissa,
yet again making him utterly redundant.

As he turned to leave,
not entirely sure where to go next, an odd noise caught his attention. It
sounded like a high-pitched tone, something whirring out of control. He looked
between the door and the desk, having a distinct sensation of what was about to
follow and sure there wasn’t enough time to escape from the room to get up on
deck.

An explosion blasted
through the bowels of the ship, splitting wood from frame and rocking the
entire structure. Cid flew through the air, plummeting towards the door which
had slammed shut. He crossed his arms across his face and gritted his teeth,
bracing against the inevitable.

One last explosion echoed
in the darkness, and he forgot to say a final prayer.

Something wet caressed the side of
Larissa’s face. She groaned out loud and opened her eyes to darkness. She lay
face-down in a muddy pit, her arms outstretched above her head, fingers buried
into sloppy wetness. Rain splattered the side of her face. Clumps of mud caught
beneath her fingernails as she tried to move. At first, her body didn’t want to
respond beyond a wriggle of fingers, pain flowing from head to toe. She
coughed, the metallic taste of blood rising in her mouth and a sharp shot of
pain erupting from her chest. With another groan, she gave up on the idea of
moving anywhere fast and let her head flop back into the mud, the heat from her
body doing nothing to warm the cold wetness of the ground.

Muted sounds of
explosions and gunfire reached her ears from above, and she remembered the
airships, the battle, and the dramatically unplanned exit from the
RDS Eagle
.

“Holt?” she asked, her
voice nothing more than a squeaky whisper. No response was forthcoming. How far
had they fallen? Twenty feet? Thirty? There was no doubt she had broken bones
from the way her body felt and the pain pulsing every time she tried to move.
All she could do was wait, laying in the rain, until her ability to heal fixed
her body.

Eventually, she managed
to move both arms and carefully pressed down on the squelching mud to push
herself upright. The sky was filled with fast-moving, dark outlines of
airships. She rolled onto her backside and stared up at them, quickly picking
out the
Eagle
, distinctive in its size and style from the weathered and
worn pirate ships pursuing it. They’d sailed on, leaving Larissa behind and
with no way to get back aboard.

“I may have misjudged
the distance,” a gravelly voice came from nearby.

“Holt,” she said as she
patted at the ground in the direction of his voice. Light from one of the
pirate airships cast a slight glow on the ground, and as it turned in the sky,
she noticed a distinct crater in the mud and crawled towards it. A vague
outline shimmered, and slowly, Holt returned into view. He lay face-up, legs
bent at awkward angles, bright red blood pouring from the back of his head and
mixing with the grey mud beneath.

“You’re hurt. Here, let
me help.” Larissa picked his head up and set it in her lap, lacing her hands
together across the open wound.

“Too many broken bones.
I won’t last long. Please, go. Run to Sallarium City and don’t look back.”

“Shh. I can fix you,
and when I’m done fixing you I’m going to flog you for dragging me off the ship
after I’d expressly told you not to.” She glanced up at the skies—the battle
raged, cannonballs flying, shots erupting, people falling from the decks of the
enemy ships as the sharpshooter Marines took them down. At least three ships
lay dotted on the grounds surrounding them.

“They won’t win. Vries
is outnumbered. I didn’t want you to die trying to save the others. What are
you doing?”

“Healing.” She pulled
her hands away. They were covered in blood, but the flow had ceased. “Can you
tell which bones are broken?”

“Ribs, legs…an arm, I
think. You can’t fix all of it.”

“You just watch me.” She
set to work, half watching the battle, flinching every time a wayward ball flew
in their direction, holding her breath each time she saw a new hole punctured
in the side of the
Eagle
, all as she focused on fusing bone and closing
wounds on Holt’s body.

“You left the
Anthonium
with Sandy.”

“I didn’t have time to
tell her what to do with it, but I guess she figured it out.”

“Hmm,” Holt said, his
eyes focused on her. He seemed oblivious to the battle going on overhead.

By the time she worked
the last rib with her aching hands, her head throbbed with pain at the exertion
of healing so much at once.

“That was the last
piece,” Larissa said.

“It’s remarkable you
could fix any of it at all.” Holt sat up and rotated his arms and torso, then
reached to the back of his head to check on the wound there.

“No, I mean the
Anthonium
.
I don’t have any left.”

“There’s nothing that
can be done. It isn’t as if it’s easy to come by, as you know. I’m all right,
Larissa. I have strength enough to get you to the city.”

“I don’t want to run
away to the city. I want to help.” She stood and reached out toward the ships.
“Did you see that?”

“What?” Holt grunted as
he stood beside her.

“I think I just saw
someone climbing down a rope off the
Eagle
.”

“Perhaps a cowardly Marine
found the rope I’d tied on and decided to escape the mess up there.”

“Unlikely.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never
seen a marine that fat.”

She took off, running
as fast as her feet would allow across the unsteady ground, rain pelting her
face. Her heart beat time in her ears and the battle noises grew louder and
more desperate as she approached. Another pirate airship plummeted to the
ground ahead, its canopy torn to shreds. The ground beneath her feet shook with
a rumble as the craft smashed into the earth, but she didn’t slow her pace. If the
fat form had been Friar Narry, there was hope the others would follow, or
perhaps they had already escaped the ship. A figure appeared in the corner of
her vision, and she realized Holt was running by her side.

Just as they made
ground towards the ship, a flash erupted in the sky above. An arc of lightning
coursed across the canopy of the ship, followed by an eruption of flame.
Larissa skidded to a stop and Holt gripped her arm, trying to drag her
backwards and away from the plummeting fireball. Embers and sparks leapt out in
all directions, catching the surrounding ships. Another two were already making
unsteady descents, their rotors shot out, hulls blasted open.

“Cid,” Larissa
whispered, then launched forwards again, intending to catch up to the ship
before it hit the ground, but Holt pulled her back and wrapped his arm around
her shoulder, holding her to his chest.

“Don’t watch,” he said,
trying to turn her face away from the vision, but she could not stop watching.
The flames stretched up towards the dark night clouds; even the constant deluge
of rain could do nothing to quell the fireball. Bodies jumped left and right
from the deck of the ship as it neared the ground, people throwing themselves
overboard in desperation. Finally, the structure of the ship smashed into the
ground, an almighty blast rumbling beneath her feet, the balloon canopy nothing
more than a ball of bright orange flame crashing down, covering one half of the
hull. Anyone left on board would struggle to escape.

Larissa finally turned
away, burying her face into Holt’s shoulder and clawing at his back with her
hands. As much as her mind wanted to do nothing but cry and scream and mourn
the incredible loss of life she had just witnessed—which she was powerless to
stop—something in the distance caught her attention.

Far across the city, a
long airship turned in the sky, facing away from all the chaos and the death.
It was difficult to see in the dark of night, but Larissa noticed it all the
same, mostly for the uniqueness of the design; it had no canopy and was held in
the air by two rotors turning at an incredible pace. It was not the ship they
had used to return from Eptora, which meant only one thing—it was her ship, the
pirate ship with all of Cid’s tinkering, fueled by an
Anthonium
reserve
and stolen from Eptora by the one person who was responsible for every death
and horrid thing that had happened throughout her life.

“Covelle,” she
whispered as her fingertips dug further into Holt’s skin.