Venture to Chaos (#2)

38 | The Search of Chaos

Archer did not jump over the rail as he should've. Instead, the explosion pushed him over with the rest of the rubble, sending him flying into water that had turned to concrete.

Gunpower wasn't all that hard to find. That much of it was, however, awfully expensive. Fine-tuning that kind of mix so it would be highly explosive was a hard thing to pay for. Something a rich man like Bardarian was able to get a hold of to destroy the Kingsland, but not something a supposedly dead man like Adrian Everson could access.

But, of course, he had help; Master plays for both sides. Because it's awful good business. The things he'd missed, as always. The things Silta had missed, not as always. The biggest mover of supplies in Myria had provided Everson with all that gunpowder. Enough to destroy a chest. Enough to destroy a ship.

Archer was vaguely aware of the water surrounding him. Of the splinters of deathly black wood and shards of window glass raining around him. He was vaguely aware of the crimson sails shredding into pieces. He was only party aware of it all.

Salt leaked into his nose and mouth. It wormed its way into the gashes on his head and the arrow bite in his arm. It found his eyes and his skin.

He kicked up desperately, spitting bloodred water. He gasped for air, trying to find anything he could with his eyes. There was a lot of wood. A lot of red and a lot of black. He kicked as hard as he could, feeling the tug of something under him. He kicked away, but something had a hand on his foot. He kicked again, his mouth filling with a scream.

There were other screams, too. Other screams of agony and pain. Archer tried to stay afloat. He tried to kick into the darkness but couldn't see anything but red.

Archer saw Bardarian's face glint in the water. It disappeared quickly.

"Silta!" He used up all of his air on the one word, and even it disappeared into a gurgle as he struggled to breathe.

There was the sound of a resonating crack as the mast hit the side of the rock, sliding down and splashing into the water. It just missed Archer's head as he kicked for his life. Water slid into his clothes and covered him in red water. He blinked.

The sounds of the ship falling apart had begun to subside, the yells along with them. Gasping, he pushed through the water, his vision returning. His ears began to ring. All he could hear was that awful ringing sound.

"Silta!" Archer didn't hear himself shout the words. "Laurier!" he screamed, pulling through the water with his arms to find anybody who was left. "Alli!"

Nobody responded to his cries. Silta had gotten quite a few people over the rail before the chest had blown itself and the ship to bits. There had to be people alive.

Water dropped around him and red stars twinkled in the water as he swam through the damage, his limbs tired but desperate. He threw aside a piece of black wood and found a hand underneath. Severed, bloody, and not connected to an arm.

Archer instinctively pushed away from it, bile rising in his throat. He began resuming his search behind him.

"Alli! Pincho! Bickie! Marquis! Britter?"

"Kingsley?"

Archer whirled around in the water at the sound of a voice. He didn't recognize it immediately.

Blonde hair illuminated in the water. Archer swam towards it. "Rusher?"

"Kingsley? You're there, right? Are you real?"

Archer reached him, noting the blood staining his light hair and the bone protruding from his hand. His feet kicked desperately in the red water.

"I'm real," Archer told him, dragging him towards a slice of wood. He pushed him on, careful to avoid the clear broken bones.

"I keep seeing people," Rusher told him, his words hazy. "Bardarian and Courtley."

"They're not real, Alexander," Archer told him, turning his eyes back on the water. It was too dark to see over a few feet in front of him.

There was something burning in the distance. He wasn't sure how far he'd been thrown, but the Avourienne was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Bits of it floated around in the water. The Devil's ship was in pieces.

"Kingsley!"

Archer knew that voice. He knew it, he just hadn't expected it here. He turned to find it. That voice was safety.

"Kingsley!"

"I'm here!" Archer yelled back.

There was rope tossed out to him. Archer first tied it to Rusher, around his middle.

"I voted to wait for you, Captain," Rusher mumbled. Archer didn't get the sense that the navigator was speaking to him.

The rope pulled back, and Archer swam after it. The moonlight began to filter through the further he swam, until he could see his feet in the water.

Bloody and bruised.

Keeping his eyes on the shape appearing across from him, Archer swam after Rusher until his head knocked into something hard. Wood.

Archer looked up at it. It went up into the air, as far up as Archer could see. And although it was dark, Archer recognized the colour: A deep Myrian blue.

"Kingsley!" Lyra shouted. "You're still there?"

"I'm here," Archer shouted back. "I need to find the others. I'll bring them back to you."

"We've got some already, Captain," Lyra shouted, her shape just visible as Archer's eyes adjusted.

"You've got Silta?"

"Grab the rope, Captain," Marquis shouted down. A thread of rope splashed to his left.

"You've got Silta?" Archer repeated. His voice sounded wrong in the echo of the cave.

"Not yet, Archer," Lyra shouted down. "Just take the rope."

He twisted in the water, swimming back to the Avourienne. Silta had been pushing people over, but she had to have been pushed over the rail herself by the explosion. She had to be in the water somewhere, just unconscious. He could find her. He settled his raging heartbeat and swam faster. She could be drowning.

"Novari!" he shouted again.

He found a dazed Harvi holding onto the wall of rock for dear life. His starling green eyes were dull and lifeless as he grasped for Archer. No longer was he the cocky, arrogant strategist that had spied for Silta. Now he was just terrified. He took throaty breaths.

"Can you swim?" Archer asked him.

Harvi's eyes darted around. "I never met Bardarian, but he's so much taller than I thought he'd be."

Archer felt shivers dancing on his skin. What was this place doing to them?

"Can you swim, Jordan?" Archer asked again.

Harvi's eyes finally seemed to adjust to his presence. "I—I think so." He looked down at his bloody hands. "I think my arm is broken."

Archer looked down at the strategists' elbow, which had protruded out into the water.

"You can swim with one hand," Archer insisted. "The Myriad is only a few meters away. Follow the moonlight."

Harvi nodded and began to swim away, muttering. "His eyes really do change colour."

Archer swam back out into the mess, his eyes searching. He found a few more dazed crew members, but he couldn't find Silta.

"Nova!"

Archer was getting no response. He hefted himself over a wall of splintered wood. As he did, something beside him came crashing down—a rock. It fell from the ceiling. There would be more. Panicking, he swam faster.

One final rock pulled out of the roof, landing right on his head, and he descended into darkness again.