Cresting Waves

Avast With Me

They're awoken by Harry bursting into the room. All the candles have gone out, so Harry's torch is the only light in the large chamber. Zayn flutters his eyelids open, turning his head weakly towards the noise and the light. His hair is a mess, spread out around his head and falling into his itchy eyes. His mouth feels like desert, his tongue nearly suctioned to the roof of his mouth with how dry it is. Blood is crusted down his arm and around his palm and fingers, and his body is freezing. He imagines Liam, lying curled on his side next to him, feels much the same.

"Holy shit!" Harry says, hurrying across the room and bounding up onto the stone altar. "Oh, this is bad." He hovers over Liam, checking his pulse, then does the same to Zayn, who blinks up at him.

Harry sighs in relief, holding the torch high. "At least you're awake, and not dead. The ritual must have worked. The waterfall is back, but we must sail out immediately."

Zayn and Liam take in his words silently. It's as if their every strength has been drained from their muscles. Everything must be put into merely breathing, and staying awake.

Harry curses again. "You two won't be able to walk. We'll have to carry you out. Shit." He stands to his full height, glancing around and gathering a few candles closer to their bodies. He drapes the bloodied shroud around them and relights the candles. "I've got to go get help. I'll be right back."

Zayn doesn't know how, but he manages to twitch his fingers across what feels like an ocean of space between them, and brush up against Liam's bare back. Liam makes a small, painful sounding noise, but otherwise doesn't move. Zayn just breathes, finding comfort in the small touch as he lets his eyes fall closed.

The next time he opens them, he's been wrapped in a soft, warm blanket and thrown over the shoulder of one of the crew. He can't see Liam through his blurred vision, but he assumes he must be being carried as well. They're heading down the winding mountain stairs, the mountaintop city growing smaller and smaller. They're headed for the ship.

Zayn can hear the clanking of metal and the excited murmurs of the pirates. They're leaving with their treasure. He spares a thought to wonder if anyone grabbed his and Liam's share.

He's awake just long enough to be carried aboard and laid in Liam's bed near the other man. He catches a glimpse of Louis' face and his voice telling someone "We sail immediately," before sleep claims him once more.

They sleep for a long time. There are glimpses of consciousness, where Zayn is aware of Harry spoon feeding him thin broth, and others where someone is washing him with a dish of water, a rag, and large hands. In every instance, he searches for Liam with what little strength he has. The other man is never far, although also never seems to be awake at the same time he is.

Harry tells him, once, that they're sailing for Niall's home waters. Zayn is half sitting in the bed, slumped against Harry's side while the pirate spoons soup into his mouth. Zayn musters up the energy to say "Safe? For Niall?"

He had gotten the impression, over their journey and from certain conversations, that Niall wasn't very well received by his people. He spoke of them with pride, sure, and fierce loyalty, but always with a slight hint of regret and bitterness. Zayn had assumed there was bad blood between them.

Harry gives him another spoonful of soup. Liam sleeps on beside them. "Niall will be okay. He'll mostly stay on the ship with us."

Zayn hums. After he's done and Harry's sorted out his hair, he lies back down on the mattress and curls around Liam's back. His body is heavy, tired, but this time, sleep doesn't come. Instead, he hears voices, faintly. Those of his sisters and mum, his dad. They're not talking directly to him, but about him. Worrying over his and Liam's condition, speaking about them in hushed tones. He can hear the sound of Safaa crying, and Doniya muttering prayers in Latin.