Sylven glanced at him. "I did, but there's no use worrying about something that hasn't happened yet. I've learned the hard way that it will only wear you down."
"I see," Cyrus said. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I suppose you're right, but that doesn't mean I'll be able to relax."
Sylven shrugged, and rolled over. "Wake me in a few hours. I want to go have a talk with the captain about our weapons. For now though, I'm taking a nap."
Cyrus scowled, but kept his mouth shut. Instead, he climbed into his cot, and retrieved the book he brought from Myrels. The bobbing waves, and his nervous stomach made it difficult to read, so in the end, he put the book back, and just sat there, waiting for the time to pass.
…
Two days later, Cyrus and Sylven joined the rest of the crew on the deck, waiting for the order to be given to raise the anchor. Captain Edmund stood at the quarterdeck, studying the men as he smoked on a pipe. He blew out a cloud of smoke as the boat rocked in the water, and the tendrils of mist crept between the men's legs. The wood creaked as a gust blew past, and ruffled the captain's wild blond hair.
"Men. As you must know, we are on the edge now, and our only hope of getting out is by going forward. Now, I must warn you, there are strange, unnatural beasts in this area that even I'm afraid of. Some of you will die, of that, I'm certain, but if we stay here, all of us will die. So, are you ready to move? Are you ready to get out of here?"
There was a chorus of ayes, and Captain Edmund nodded.
"Valmen. Raise the anchor and prepare to depart."
Valmen motioned towards three of the men, and they quickly turned the wheel to raise the anchor. Cyrus gripped his sword's hilt as the boat lurched forward, pulled by the current. Around him, members of the crew hurried to adjust the sails, their faces pale, and beaded with sweat.
As they crept forward, a foul stench rose from the sea, reminding Cyrus of the stone hall beneath the Dilthane's temple. He covered his nose, and his eyes widened as desolate ships appeared in the mist, their hulls cracked, and mast's broken and tangled beneath tattered sails. The bones of the dead cluttered the crooked decks, and surrounding rocks, a few still pocketed with rotten flesh.
The crew murmured amidst themselves, and they gripped their daggers or cutlasses. A swift glare from Edmund silenced the men, and he used hand gestures to direct two of them to climb into the crows nest.
Cyrus worked the ropes as the two men communicated with flags and gestures. Soon, the ship was gliding through the water, with Captain Edmund at the wheel, nimbly sailing them through the rocks and ships. As they went, Cyrus noticed a number of strange holes, dotting the stone spires.
'Wait, don't tell me those are…' Cyrus shivered as a wisp of fog curled around his arm, and he stepped back from the railing.
Suddenly, there was a loud shout from overhead, followed by a low thump as a dark shadow bounced off the railing, before falling into the water with a splash. Cyrus whirled around, and the blood drained from his face. Crimson blood dripped from the wood, and a sliver of a torn tunic fluttered from a nail.
A few of the men retched at the sight, and Captain Edmund swore beneath his breath. Cyrus fought back his revulsion, and glanced towards the crows nest. It appeared eerily empty, void of the other man.
A few of the men began to mutter, but Captain Edmund stomped his foot. "Quiet! We're not out of the mist yet! Men, raise your blades. You'll need them to defend yourselves."
Panicked, Cyrus struggled to pull his sword free of its sheath. His hands shook, and the blade caught on the leather, refusing to budge. Sylven made his way over, and calmly drew the sword before handing it back to him.
"Here. Stay close to me, and keep your wits about you. You still have a long way to go, so you can't die just yet."
Cyrus nodded, and wrapped his fingers around the sword's hilt. The deck darkened as they sailed beneath several large vessels, whose sails created a canopy between the rocks. As the sides scraped against the wood, Cyrus caught a glimpse of a dead man dangling from the masts. The ropes were wrapped around his neck.
Prying his eyes away, Cyrus followed Sylven towards the main mast. "What are we doing?"
"Keep your back to the mast, and your sword in front of you," Sylven said. "I'll stand on the other side."
Cyrus pressed his back into the wood, his arms trembling as his eyes darted back and forth. A horrid shout resounded from the deck behind him, followed by a clang as a man flew across the deck, and slammed into the railing. Cyrus whirled around, raising his blade.
His heart stopped as his gaze fell onto a dark worm like beast, with a barbed exoskeleton, and a maw filled with razor sharp fangs. Its long body waved like a snake as its tongue flickered in the air, and it let out a low clicking sound.
Several men scrambled back, while others froze in place, their faces pale. The wyrm hissed, and its mossy grey scales glistened as it retracted back into its hole. Its eyeless sockets were the last to disappear into the shadows.
'Gods above! That's what we're fighting?' Cyrus thought. He gripped his sword, his heart pounding in his chest.
As he twitched at each creak and splash, another wyrm lunged from the stones above, its snapping maw closing in on his side. Cyrus struggled to raise his sword, his movements sluggish as he gazed into the beast's slick mouth, and down its writhing pink throat.
In a flash, Sylven stepped before him, slamming the wyrm's head away with the blunt edge of his sword. The beast screeched, and whirled on him, but he spun to the side, and twirled his blade around. The steel flickered as he brought it up, then arced it downwards, slicing through the wyrm's neck, and severing its head.
Quick on his feet, Sylven grabbed the head, and lugged it over the railing. The rest of the body slid off the deck as the ship continued forward. Following the splash several more wyrms lunged from their caves, and tore into the bobbing head, ripping it into shreds.
"That was a smart move," Borres said, approaching them. He carried the lid to a barrel like a shield, on top of his dagger. "The wyrms would have stopped at nothing to get that."
"I thought as much," Sylven said, wiping off the beast's blood, and returning to the mast.
As the water was dyed green with the wyrm's blood. Cyrus eyed the rocks, his nerves near their ends from the sudden encounter with death. A flicker of movement caught his gaze, and he spun to the left, raising his sword just in time to plunge it into the jaw of a wyrm.
It let out a piercing screech, splattering steaming blood across the deck as it shook its head, and tried to retract back to its hole. The other wyrms took the opportunity to attack it, tearing it apart, and devouring its flesh.
Slowly, more wyrms emerged and turned their attention to the ship. Their tongues flicked as they tasted the air, then several lunged forward at once, catching a few of the men off guard, and plunging their teeth into their bodies.
Swords flickered through the air as the crew fought back, cutting, and slashing at the creatures. With shouts, they threw their all into it, and soon the wyrm's heads rolled across the deck, but not without a cost.
Wails of pain and anger echoed across the deck as they fought back, their clothes stained red. Cyrus stepped back as a man ran past, missing half of his torso. It took him a moment to realize it was Asler, his head still wrapped in towels. With what little remained of him, he wildly swung his sword, cutting down one wyrm after another.
He barely made it to the end of the deck before one managed to latch onto his leg, dragging him down. He spun, plunging his sword into the creature's head, but before he could pull it back out, another wyrm bit into his remaining arm, and ripped it off. His cries rang in Cyrus's ears as more and more wyrms emerged from their dens, and tore into the man's body.
Cyrus gritted his teeth, and glanced towards the poop deck. Captain Edmund stood strong as he fought off one wyrm after another, doing his best to protect the wheel. As he skewered one of the beast's through their empty eye sockets, another lunged for his back, bits of flesh stuck between its bloody teeth.
Without a second thought, Cyrus threw out his hand, channeling his aether through his body. It surged out of him like a tidal wave, and flooded into the ship graveyard, filling the forsaken ships, which rumbled and groaned as they came to life.
Raising up his hands, Cyrus closed his fists, and the ships splintered as a thousand roots and vines sprung forth, twisting around the wyrm's body. The creature let out a screech, and writhed against the restraints, its jaw snapping open and closed inches from Edmund. In a flash, the captain whipped around, and slashed the beat's head off.
As it fell into the water, he eyed the vines, then looked at Cyrus, who still stood with his arms outstretched. A few of the other men also glanced at him, their expression flickering with shock and disbelief.
'No point hiding it now,' Cyrus thought, narrowing his eyes.