Chapter 51 Border
The ship was a jagged mountain of iron and enchanted bone, and as it moved deeper into the Sapphire Sea, the sound of the hull grinding against the water felt like a saw against my nerves. I stood on the upper deck, my hands gripping the railing until the splinters of the dark wood bit into my palms. The wind here was different from the Citadel. It was wet, cold, and heavy with the scent of a home I had been forced to forget.
But beneath the salt, there was the rot.
I could smell it rising from the depths—the cloying, sweet stench of decaying coral and the oily bitterness of the Blight. It was the same smell currently festering in my lungs.
Klaus stood ten feet away, his silhouette a sharp, black inkblot against the grey morning sky. He was in full uniform, his medals clinking softly as the ship heaved. He was staring at the horizon through a brass telescope, his jaw set in that hard, military line that made him look less like a man and more like a statue of war.
"We’ve crossed the threshold," he said. His voice was projected, reaching me clearly over the roar of the wind, but it was devoid of the warmth he’d shown in the tower. "We are in Siren waters now."
I looked down at the water. It wasn't the vibrant, glowing turquoise of my childhood. It was a murky, bruised indigo. Large, dark patches of sludge floated on the surface like scabs.
"It's dying," I whispered. My voice was a dry rattle, catching on the black fluid in my throat.
Klaus lowered the telescope. He didn't look at the water. He looked at me. The sapphire in his eyes was blindingly bright today, a cruel contrast to the dull, aching grey of my own vision.
"The Blight is accelerated here," he said, walking toward me. His boots thudded rhythmically on the iron-reinforced deck. "The magic of your people is the fuel. The more they sing to fight it, the faster it consumes them. It’s a feedback loop, Nerissa. That is why the fleet is here."
"You're here to 'stabilize' them," I said, the word tasting like poison. "By harvesting them before the rot does."
Klaus stopped three feet away. He didn't reach for me. He hadn't touched me since we left the docks. It was as if he were afraid that if he touched the lines on my arms, he would be sucked back into the drowning.
"The Emperor wants the pearls," Klaus said flatly. "And the oil from the glands. He believes if we harvest the pure sources now, we can create a vaccine for the Citadel before the atmosphere collapses."
"A vaccine made of my sisters' blood," I said.
A sharp, wet cough tore out of me. I doubled over, my forehead hitting the cold iron railing. I pressed my handkerchief to my mouth, feeling the thick, warm sludge hit the fabric. When I pulled it away, the white silk was a ruin of black ink.
Klaus flinched. I saw his hand twitch, his fingers curling as if he wanted to reach out, but he held himself back. The General won the fight against the man.
"You should be below deck," he said, his voice hardening. "The spray is too salty for your lungs."
"I want to see them," I rasped, wiping my mouth. "If you're going to kill them, I want to be the one they see standing next to the executioner."
Klaus’s eyes flashed with a sudden, jagged anger. "I am not an executioner. I am a soldier with an impossible objective."
"There's no difference when you're the one holding the blade, Klaus."
"Contacts!" a lookout shouted from the crow's nest. "Port side! Beneath the shelf!"
Klaus spun around, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. "Battleside! Prepare the harpoons! Do not fire unless they breach!"
I scrambled to the railing, leaning out as far as I dared.
In the dark water, shadows were moving. They were fast, shimmering streaks of silver and blue, darting between the Scourge-growths on the sea floor. Then, one of them broke the surface.
It was a scout. A young male, his scales a pale, sickly lavender. He leaped from the water, his spear of sharpened bone held high. He wasn't singing a song of welcome. He was screaming—a high, piercing sound that shattered the glass in one of the deck lanterns.
SCREEEEE-AAAA!
He hit the water and vanished, followed by a dozen more.
"They're guarding the Abyssal Gate," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Klaus, stop the ships. Let me talk to them. They'll listen to me."
"They see a vampire warship, Nerissa," Klaus said, not looking at me. He was watching the water with a cold, tactical hunger. "They don't see a princess. They see a target."
"Let me try!"
I lunged for the side of the ship, but Klaus caught my arm. His fingers digging into the bandages on my bicep.
"No," he hissed. "Look at them."
I looked.
The scouts weren't just attacking. They were desperate. One of them drifted closer, and I saw the truth. His gills were clogged with black sludge. His eyes were milky, the same sightless white as the Scribe’s.
"They're already turning," Klaus whispered. "If we don't harvest the healthy ones in the Rift, they'll all look like that by sunset."
"So you'll kill the sick to save the survivors?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Who gave you the right to choose who dies?"
"The Emperor gave me the orders!" Klaus roared, his mask finally cracking. He shoved me back toward the center of the deck. "I am trying to save what I can, you stubborn girl! If I don't take the Rift tonight, the Imperial Guard will come in behind me with the incendiaries. They won't harvest. They'll just burn the ocean until there's nothing left but boiled salt!"
He was breathing hard, the sapphire in his eyes fractured with a raw, agonizing desperation. He looked at my face.
"I am trying to save you," he whispered, his voice dropping to a jagged rasp. "I need the pure oil from the Rift to stop the lines on your neck. If I don't get it, you'll be a feral by the time we sail back."
I stared at him.
"You're doing this... for me?" I asked.
"I am doing my duty," he lied, but his hand was still shaking where it gripped his sword.
"If you kill my father for a cure," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "I will never use it. I will let the ink take me. I will drown in front of you, Klaus, and I will make sure it’s the last thing you ever see."
Klaus looked at me, and for a second, I saw the man who had brought me the shell. The man who had held me while I cried. He looked devastated.
"The fleet is moving," he said, turning his back to me. "Prepare the diving bells. We reach the Rift at midnight."