The Eighth Sea

Chapter 19

Wren

Wren felt as though he had been struck by lightning, his heart shattering into a million pieces. He refused to believe what had just happened, and he was struggling to process that Hector was well and truly gone. He couldn't move; he felt like every muscle in his body was weighing him down. His first mate, his love, had sacrificed himself to save them all, and Wren couldn't help but feel responsible for his death.

Wren inhaled shakily after kneeling on the sand for a few minutes, the rocks digging into his knees and bits of sand entering his wounds. He had to make sure the rest of his crew was safe. That was his first responsibility as captain. After that he could think about Hector.

It was a few moments before Wren registered that Francis was shaking his shoulders and saying something to him.

"Captain, are you okay?" Then, to someone else, they called out "Get him some water! He's still in shock."

A flask was placed in his hand, but Wren just let it drop, not able to work up the energy to lift it. Someone else helped him drink, as the rest of the group began to gather around Wren, multiple people trying to talk all at once.

"We need to get him off the island," someone, probably Francis, was saying.

Gerald chimed in, adding, "Pierre and Patricia are still out cold."

"What about Scylla?" That was definitely Levi, ever the practical one. He was a lot like Hector in that regard. No wonder the two had gotten along so well.

"We'll worry about Scylla later. For now, Gerald, try to get Pierre and Patricia up," Francis ordered. "Levi, help me move Wren. We're too exposed on this beach right now; we need to get to safety."

Wren allowed himself to be dragged across the sand and to the surrounding palm trees as Francis and Levi took charge of the situation. He supposed he was being a terrible captain, but he still couldn't bring himself to stand or even speak. It was as if his mind was shutting his whole body down.

Drops of water hit Wren's face, like the sky was crying for him. He shivered as the air temperature dropped far faster than it should have outside of Atlantis. With Levi's help, Francis managed to drag Patricia and Pierre farther away from the rapidly rising water levels, and Wren stumbled about blindly in the intense rainfall.

They wandered further into the island, and Wren could have sworn he and Hector had gone in a similar direction earlier. Nothing looked the same anymore, for the coconut trees had disappeared and had been replaced by jagged rocks that cut at Wren's skin as he stumbled through the slippery terrain.

"A cave!" Francis shouted. "We'll take cover there."

Everyone packed into the cave and Francis immediately began helping Gerald with nursing Patricia and Pierre back to reality while Levi sat with Wren, keeping him company. Pierre was the first to wake up, coughing and spluttering noisily as he doubled over in discomfort. Patricia was soon to follow him, and the two stared dazedly at their new surroundings. Patricia instinctively reached for her moonshine, offering everyone a drink after she had taken a hearty swig.

"What happened?" Pierre croaked, his voice rough with disuse. Then there was a pause before he added, "Where's Hector?"

Wren inhaled sharply at the mention of Hector's name, and Levi gently placed a hand on Wren's back, trying to provide some semblance of comfort. Wren glanced at Levi, knowing that the scribe could see him, hoping that Levi could answer for him.

Thankfully, Levi got the message. "He's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" Patricia rasped.

"He's dead," Francis said bluntly. Wren winced, wounded by their tone. He knew that it was for the best, though. May as well get the pain over with now.