Their ship cut swiftly through the water, whilst the enemy’s ship grew bigger with each passing second. He swallowed. It was close. The Order’s flag, a golden flame on a black background, flapped in the wind. He saw the men of the other crew, dressed in red-and-black uniforms.

  Inch by inch, the ship pulled alongside their own.

  His body thrummed, a mixture of tension and excitement brewing inside him. His hand sweated as he gripped the cutlass’s wooden handle. Levrith tried to count the crew of the other ship. It became quickly apparent that even with the naiads, they were outnumbered.

  The tension on board hung thick. A grappling hook flew towards their ship and suddenly, the air filled with rope and hooks. They thudded as they hit the deck. The rope tightened, and the hooks snagged on the rail. The ship pulled in closer.

  The Order thought they’d caught the Naiad’s Revenge. That they’d been fleeing. But the Naiad’s Revenge was ready.

  Levrith’s jaw clenched, hand tightening on the hilt of his cutlass. A wooden plank dropped, creating a bridge between the ships. Immediately, another fell. Tomas cried out, a battle cry. Levrith and others of the crew joined in. They surged forward, pressing against one another, as they went to meet their enemy.

  Swords clanged as metal struck against metal. Levrith ran forth to meet one of the men who boarded their ship. Yelling, the short man darted forth towards him, sword raised. Levrith dodged the blade, and with his own cutlass, he sliced upwards.

  The man jumped backwards, the blade missing him, but Levrith pressed forward, swinging again. This time, he cleaved the man across the upper arm. The man gasped and stumbled backwards towards the edge of the ship. The man got his balance, steadying himself. He braced himself, holding his sword ready in front of him, prepared to meet Levrith’s next attack.

  But instead of raising his blade, Levrith lifted his foot and, with all his might, kicked the man in the knees, knocking him overboard. The man’s arms flailed, and his eyes widened as he fell. The sword dropped from his hand.

  Levrith peered overboard. Water splashed as the man landed. A slender dark shadow approached the man from behind, and suddenly the man disappeared, sucked into the ocean. Bubbles floated to the surface where the man had just been.

  For a second, Levrith wondered if the naiad who had pulled the man under was Ceto, but he had no time to wait and see. He turned and rejoined the battle. A scream of terror rang out from the other ship, followed by another. He glanced over. He glimpsed flashes of green and blue amongst the red-and-black uniforms. The naiads had boarded their ship.

  He searched for Ceto. He and some of the other naiads would have used their grappling hooks and climbed the rope, surprising their enemy, attacking them with their daggers. Meanwhile, other naiads would stay in the water, ready and waiting to drown any of the enemies that fell overboard.

  The air rang with the clashing of metal, screams of pain, and yells of triumph. This all combined with the sound of splashing below.

  Raiya stood beside the rail. A man approached him, and with a blur of motion, Raiya grabbed him by the shirt and threw him overboard. Immediately, he lunged at another man, shoving his dagger deep in his gut. He tossed the man aside and moved on to his next victim.

  A flash of pale blue in his peripheral caused Levrith to turn. Ceto ran at a man and tackled him, and they both flew over the rail. For a second, their bodies seemed suspended in the air and then fell from view.

  Levrith saw movement out of the corner of his eye. In his distraction, he hadn’t seen the man approaching. He cursed himself for his lack of focus. The attacker, a man almost as tall and broad as himself, lifted his sword. Levrith stepped backwards. He started to lift his own cutlass, but his feet caught in a coil of rope. He stumbled. His cutlass clattered uselessly to the ground. Panic flooded his body.

  The man lifted his sword, a gloating sneer on his face as he pressed his advantage. The man brought down the sword. To dodge the blade, Levrith half flung, half fell overboard, plummeting towards the water.

  Salt water engulfed him, flooding his mouth and nose. Disoriented, he kicked and stroked, trying to find the surface. Suddenly, hands grabbed him, hauling him through the water. He coughed and sputtered as his head broke the surface, gasping for air. He glanced behind him.

  Ceto smiled, his left cheek dimpling. His hands clutched at Levrith’s shoulder and waist. A few wet strands had escaped his plaited hair, sticking to the side of Ceto’s face.

  “Having trouble staying on the ship, are we?”

  Levrith laughed. But before he could reply, a blur of red and black flew overboard, hitting the water with a splash.

  “You all right to get back to the ship?” Ceto asked.

  Levrith nodded.

  “Then duty calls.” He let go of Levrith and dived back in the water, in the direction of the man.

  “Be safe,” Levrith called out, but Ceto was already gone. Levrith turned and swam the short distance to the enemy’s ship, climbing the rope to rejoin the battle.

  Chapter

  Six

  Climbing aboard, Levrith spotted and snatched up a cutlass lying on the deck. Only a few from the Order fought on. Victory was close. He heard someone climbing the rope behind him. He looked back. Ceto scampered up and surveyed the battle.

  He gave Levrith a wild grin. “We seem to be winning.”

  No sooner had he said the words, a man shouted, “I surrender!”

  “I surrender,” a second called out.

  Then another, and another. Swords clattered as they dropped. The remaining members of the Order raised their hands in surrender.

  They’d won!

  He clapped Ceto on the shoulder. “We’ll get an extra ration of rum tonight.”

  Then Levrith spotted him. Behind Ceto, a man in a red robe stepped out from amongst a stack of crates. Somehow, he’d managed to stay hidden throughout the battle. He clutched a white dagger in his bony hand. The man’s mouth moved. Whispers filled Levrith’s ears as the man lifted his dagger, eyes fixed on Ceto. The dagger swung. Heart pounding, Levrith grabbed Ceto and threw him behind him.

  He turned back to the robed man. The man lifted a hand towards him, his beady eyes boring into Levrith. He spoke. Levrith couldn’t understand the words, but the whispers grew louder in his ears.

  Without hesitation, Levrith lifted his cutlass, bringing it down, slashing across the man’s chest and stomach. The man stumbled back, dropping the dagger as he collapsed onto the deck, a cry falling from his lips. Twitching, he grasped at his robes. Dark-red blood bloomed across his chest and stomach.

  “Levrith,” Ceto whispered.

  Levrith turned towards him. Ceto lay awkwardly on a pile of coiled rope, holding a hand to his arm. His face twisted with pain.

  “What?” Levrith’s brows furrowed as he dropped to his knees. “Are you hit? What’s wrong?” He reached out and touched Ceto’s arm.

  “I…” Ceto removed his hand. A thin cut ran down his arm, blood smudged around it. The dagger must have hit him before Levrith had gotten him out of the way. But how could such a small injury hurt Ceto so much? It was barely a scratch! Around the thin cut were faint green web-like lines.

  Ceto pointed behind Levrith. The dagger lay by the man. Levrith picked it up. The blade was white as if carved from bone. Strange etchings ran the length of the dagger.

  Ceto sucked in a breath, drawing Levrith’s gaze. “That’s the same type of dagger they used on me.” He swallowed. “Back in captivity. During their rituals.”

  Levrith frowned. Was that why Ceto was so badly injured? Was it Order ritual magic?

  Footsteps pounded towards them. “What happened?” Rowena asked.

  “I don’t know!” Levrith barked.

  Ceto’s whole body shook.

  “Ceto?” Levrith tried to control his breathing. He needed to keep calm. Ceto’s eyes rolled back so only the whites could be seen. “Ceto!”

  He tucked the dagger into his belt. Then he carefully wrapped his arms around Ceto and lifted him.

  “I’m taking him to Everett,” Levrith said, referring to the ship’s doctor. Rowena nodded as he raced past. Around him the battle had ended. His crewmates were laughing and cheering as they tied up their prisoners.

  They had won, but Levrith didn’t care. All he cared about was Ceto. A few of the crew threw concerned looks his way as he ran over the plank and onto the Naiad’s Revenge. He had to get Ceto to Everett. He would know what to do. He would make Ceto better.

  “Ceto! Stay with me.”

  But Ceto didn’t respond. Panic threatened to choke Levrith. His arms tightened around Ceto’s too-cold body as the infirmary came into sight.

  A loud laugh came from the room, but this was cut off by a loud “Aww! Blimey! Can’t you be a bit gentler, Everett!”

  Everett said something, and whoever was with him laughed.

  Levrith stepped into the doorway. Everett stood in front of Kythe, stitching up a wound on his chest.

  “I’m almost finished,” he said to Levrith as he continued stitching.

  Kythe’s shoulders tensed. He hissed through his teeth as Everett moved the needle deftly between his fingers.

  Levrith bit his lip to stop himself from screaming. Ceto needed seeing to now! But he knew better than to interrupt Everett. He knew he should worry if Kythe was all right. But all his attention was on Ceto.

  “There. You’re good to go.” Everett stepped back and pushed his glasses up his nose.

  Kythe rose. “Thanks, Everett. I’ll make it up to you.”

  Levrith stepped aside as Kythe slipped past. Everett stared after Kythe for a second, a slight flush to his pale cheeks, before turning to Levrith.

  “Bring him in,” Everett said, but Levrith had already entered the room. As gently as he could, he placed Ceto on the pallet. He took Ceto’s cold, clammy hand in his own. Ceto’s eyes were closed, body trembling.

  “Naiads don’t tremble.” Levrith squeezed Ceto’s lifeless hand. “They don’t feel the cold.” Ceto teased him about it during cold nights on deck, whenever Levrith shivered. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Step back please, Levrith.” Everett’s voice was firm.

  “Of course.” He berated himself. How would Everett be able to treat Ceto if he stood in the way? Reluctantly he let go of Ceto’s hand and stepped back. He bumped against a glass cabinet. It rattled as the glass jars, bottles, and books shook inside.

  Everett gave him a stern look before leaning over Ceto. “What happened?” He probed at the skin around the cut, now a yellowy-green colour.

  “It’s the dagger.” He pulled out the white dagger from his belt. “A man cut him on the arm with it. The man wore robes, and he said things.” He tried to think of any detail that might help Everett diagnose and treat Ceto.

  Everett carefully took the dagger from him. He frowned, studying it from behind thin-rimmed glasses.

  “Do you know what it is?” Levrith blurted. “Ceto said they’d used the same type when the Order had him in captivity.” He hesitated. “He looked scared when he saw it.”

  “And only this cut him? Only on the arm?”

  “Yes. Do you know why it’s hurting him this much? Do you think it’s magic?”

  Everett placed the dagger carefully on a side table and turned back to Ceto. He leaned forward. Thin fingers reached out, gently probing around the small wound. “I’m not sure. It could also be some kind of poison. It’s hard to say.”

  Levrith wanted to scream and beat the walls with his fists. “Well, can you help him? Will he be all right?” Levrith demanded.

  Everett didn’t respond. Instead, he opened a drawer from a cabinet and began searching through it.

  “Will he live? Everett, will—”

  “Levrith, I know you’re concerned,” Everett snapped, “but I can’t work with you asking questions. I need to concentrate.”

  “I… Yes. Sorry,” he stammered.

  “It might be better if you leave.”

  Levrith opened his mouth to protest. Then he took in Ceto’s unconscious form. What possible help could he be for Ceto now? Best if he just stayed out of the doctor’s way. “All right,” he said, resigned.

  “I’ll do my best, Levrith,” Everett said. “I give you my word.”

  Levrith stepped out of the room, sparing one more glance at Ceto as Everett closed the door with a click.

  He leaned against the wall facing the door and squeezed his eyes shut. He’d gotten in the way of Everett treating Ceto. And not only that; he hadn’t moved fast enough to save Ceto from the dagger. If only he’d seen the man sooner, he could have saved Ceto.

  “Seran and Seroth, god and goddess of the sea, please let him live.” He didn’t pray regularly, but he didn’t know what else to do.

  He took a deep breath. The hallway smelled of the herbs Everett used. Levrith stared at the door, willing it to open. To reveal Ceto awake, sitting up, and smiling, healthy and well.

  Footsteps and shouts could be heard above deck. No doubt the crew would be tying up their enemies, looting their ship, and taking their weapons, food, gold, and anything of value. The captain would tell the captives that their ship would be burned and they’d be put to shore somewhere. No doubt he would then collect letters and documents, anything that might give information in his fight against the Order.

  Does he even realise that Ceto was injured? Does he even care? Ceto loved the captain, but the captain wasn’t even here.

  He heard movement behind the door, the scraping of metal against metal. He stepped forward, pressing his ear against it, hoping to hear some clue to tell him how Ceto might be doing.

  He could hear murmuring but not Ceto’s voice. Everett talking to himself? Or talking to Ceto? Could Ceto be awake? He fought against the urge to open the door and check. He pressed his open palm against the door, wanting to be as close as he could be to Ceto.

  “Please, let him be all right,” he whispered.

  “How is he?”

  He turned to see Rowena standing behind him. He dropped his hand and stepped away from the door. He hadn’t heard her approach. Streaks of blood splattered across her shirt and vest. Dried blood flaked on the skin of her neck. But there were no cuts to her skin or clothing. Not her blood, then.

  “I don’t know.” He blinked at the tears stinging his eyes. He shut them and leaned against the wall. “I don’t know.”

  And to think he’d been planning to leave. Get away from Ceto. Get some space. What if he lost him now?

  “I should have moved faster. Should have protected him.”

  “You moved as fast as you could.” Rowena squeezed his shoulder.

  Not fast enough.

  “Come on, Levrith. Let’s go get some air. Get something to eat or drink.”

  “No!” Levrith shook his head and took a deep breath. “I can’t.” He needed to be close to Ceto.

  “All right. I’ll wait with you, then.” She leaned against the wall beside him. “He’s strong. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  Levrith wished he believed that, but all he could think of was the feel of Ceto in his arms, trembling and unconscious, his eyes rolling back. They waited in silence. Each moment felt like an age.

  Finally, the door opened, and Everett peered out.

  “How is he?” Levrith asked, stepping towards him.

  Everett frowned, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt at his wrist. Levrith’s heart sank.

  “I’m not sure. He’s no longer shaking, and he seems to be doing better… But…”

  Levrith stepped forward. Ceto lay still. Peaceful, as if he was only sleeping. His skin was pale, or paler than usual, and when Levrith took Ceto’s hand in his own, the skin felt clammy. The wounded arm had been bandaged.

  “What did the dagger do to him?”

  “I’m not sure.” Everett pressed his lips together. “I checked the blade for poison but couldn’t see any evidence of it. Perhaps it’s like you said: this man in robes was a sorcerer and this is some magic weapon.”

  He took off his wire-framed glasses, pulled a cloth from his pocket, and set about cleaning the lenses. “To be honest, I’m working blind. I didn’t study this, and I don’t know what’s caused this reaction. I don’t know how to fix it.”

  Levrith’s throat clenched. “But you can help him? Right?”

  “I’m just trying to do what I would normally do with a nymph who is sick. They gain energy from their environment. I cleaned the wound and made a poultice from river plants.” He gestured at the workbench against the wall.

  A small cabinet stood open on it, revealing little drawers and compartments with tiny bottles filled with different dried herbs and plants. Several of the bottles had been opened and placed on the workbench. A used mortar and pestle sat beside them.

  “Ceto is a river nymph. So I’m hoping the river plants will help. He’s more settled now, at least,” he said. “I’m trying everything I can. I just hope it’ll be enough.”

  Levrith gazed down at Ceto. He hoped so too.

  Chapter

  Seven

  Levrith clutched Ceto’s limp hand in his own, willing Ceto to move. To open his eyes. Squeeze his hand. Anything.

  Instead, Ceto lay unmoving on the pallet.

  Everett and Rowena had left him. Everett had gone to see if anyone else needed doctoring after the battle. Rowena had gone to assist on deck. But Levrith wouldn’t budge from his vigil. He’d stay, sitting on the stool by Ceto, until he woke.

  If he wakes.

  Levrith shook his head. No. He couldn’t think like that. Ceto would wake. He’d recover, and everything would be just like it had been before. To think just yesterday he’d been trying to get away from Ceto. To get some space. It all felt so stupid now. So foolish. All he wanted now was Ceto alive and well.

  It didn’t matter if Ceto didn’t return his feelings. He could handle Ceto overlooking him and loving someone else. None of that mattered. All he wanted was Ceto in his life. He should have been grateful to have Ceto as his friend.