An Oath of Brothers

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Angel opened her eyes, shivering from the cold, to see the world rising up and down before her. She bobbed up and down slowly, gently rising and falling in the rolling waves of the ocean. She felt her body still immersed in the water, and she looked up to realize her head was just barely above water, and she was clinging to a piece of wood. Her entire body was freezing, immersed in the cold water, and as she looked up she saw the most beautiful sunrise she had ever seen, lighting up the ocean, spreading out over it like a blanket. She wondered how many days she had been floating here.

She rubbed the salty water from her eyes and tried to remember, and it all came rushing back to her in flashes: the ferocious storm, the tremendous waves, the sound of the wind and the crashing of the sea, the shouts of all the others in her ears. She remembered being thrown overboard, remembered the feeling of all that water crushing down on her, a feeling she would never forget. She felt as if her body were being split into a million pieces. She was sure she had died.

And then she remembered Thorgrin. She felt an icy cold grip around her waist, and she looked over and saw him, lying on the wood beside her, eyes closed, one arm draped over the piece of wood, the other still wrapped around her. He was unconscious, but still holding onto her, and she remembered his vow: that no matter what happened, he would never, ever let go of her.

Her heart rushed with gratitude now that she saw he had been good to his word. No one in her life had ever cared for her that much, had ever been good to their word. And yet there he lay, bobbing, unconscious, perhaps dead, she could not tell, and yet his hand was still clasped around her waist, helping to keep her afloat, making sure they never got separated.

“Thorgrin,” she said.

She reached over and shook him, and he did not respond.

Her heart sank. She looked closely and saw his chest was indeed rising and falling. She was relieved: that meant he was breathing. His face was out of the water, even if the rest of his body was in it, so he had not drowned. Had he slipped into a coma?

Angel looked all around, hoping to see signs of the others, of the wreckage—anything. She expected to see Reece and Selese, Elden and Indra, Matus and O’Connor, all floating nearby, all clutching to their own pieces of wood.

But as she looked around, her heart sank as she saw no sign of them. To her dismay, there was nothing but a vast and open sea, no debris, no sign of anyone or anything. That could only mean one thing: they had all died in the storm. She and Thorgrin were the only survivors.

“Look what the tide dragged in,” suddenly came a voice from somewhere behind her.

Angel’s heart lifted, relieved to hear another human voice, someone else alive in these rough seas. But then as she turned all the way around, she saw the source of the voice, and her heart fell: before her was a huge, black ship, gleaming in the sun, the most powerful ship she’d ever seen, flying the red and black banner of cutthroats. A sinister breed, making even pirates seem friendly. She saw their ugly faces, grinning down as if looking at prey, and her stomach fell. She remembered the stories the other lepers had told her, that her parents had been killed by cutthroats—and she’d always wanted vengeance. She wished the tides would take them away, anywhere but here.

Angel reached up and began splashing at the water, trying to swim, to pull them away from the boat.

The men laughed behind her, clearly amused by her efforts.

Suddenly a heavy rope-net came flying down through the air, landing on her and Thor so heavily it hurt; she tried to shake it off, but it was useless: she felt her and Thor hopelessly entangled in the net, and soon hoisted up out of the water and into the air.

She wriggled and screamed, trying to break free as she was lifted ever higher, her arms sticking out of the large holes in the net.

“Thorgrin!” she yelled shoving him. “Wake up! Please!”

But he did not respond.

As they neared the deck, Angel spun in the net and saw dozens of pirates standing close to the edge, looking down at her. A particularly fierce-looking one, unshaven, with rotting teeth, stringy hair, and a necklace of real shrunken heads, stared down her, smiling, licking his lips.

“Bring her up,” he said. “I’m going to have some fun with this one.”

She was lifted higher and higher, like some fish caught for the day, and the laughter of the cutthroats filled the air as she was raised to eye level, dripping wet, over the deck.

“Let me go!” she yelled, kicking and writhing.

“And why would you want that, little sister?” one of them asked in his raspy voice. “Would you rather be at the mercy of the sharks? Or wouldn’t you rather be up here and alive here with us?”

She spat, right through the net, onto their face:

“I would rather be dead a thousand times than be with you on your ship. At least the sharks I can trust.”

The other cutthroats mocked the leader as he wiped the spit off his face, hooting and hollering at him.

“Looks like it took a little girl to put you in your place.”

The leader’s laughter quickly turned to rage.

“Don’t worry,” he snarled at her, “when we’re done with you, maybe I’ll throw you to the fish after all. At least what’s left of you.”

She sneered back at him, deciding to bluff.

“My friends will find me,” she snapped. “I have very powerful friends on my ship. They are all alive, and coming for me right now.”

The cutthroats laughed uproariously.

“Are they?” they asked. “Then we shall be quivering in our boots.”

“Thorgrin!” she yelled again, elbowing him in the ribs again and again. “Wake up! I beg you! Wherever you are, wake up!”

She elbowed Thor again and again, but he just hung there, limp-necked, not responding. Maybe he really was dead, she thought.

“Looks like your friend is dead,” the captain said, as he pulled them in close, pulling her right at eye level, and reached out and grabbed her though the net, yanking her close. He stared at her through the net, but a few inches away, his awful breath in her face.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ve got a cure for dead meat.”

Angel looked down and watched him draw a dagger from his waist, the longest dagger she had ever seen, and watched him reach up and aim for her. She screamed and braced herself, assuming he was going to stab her.

Instead, though, she heard the sound of cutting rope and she realized what they were doing: they were cutting away the portion of the net that held Thorgrin.

Angel reacted. She wrapped her legs around Thor quick and squeezed as tight as she could, using all of her strength to hang onto the net and keep him from plunging. She strained and struggled, holding on for dear life, as Thor swung beneath her, unconscious, dangling over the ocean, held only by her legs. She knew that if he fell, in his state, he would surely drown.

“Let him go!” the cutthroat yelled. “If you don’t, you’ll go right down to the sea with him—then you’ll both be dead!”

“Never!” she yelled defiantly.

Angel hung on for dear life, while the cutthroats poked and prodded her with sticks, trying to make her let go. Still she hung on, every muscle in her body shaking, determined to never let Thorgrin go.

“Thorgrin!” she yelled. “Please! I beg you. Wake up! I need you!”

Suddenly, another cutthroat stepped forward, took a long club, wound back, swung it wide, and cracked her on the legs.

Angel cried out, the pain feeling as if it would smash her in half. Involuntarily, she loosened her grip and let go of Thor.

Angel’s heart broke as she watched him plummet down through the air, into the ocean. There he went, the only person who had ever cared for her in her life, who had risked his life for her, who had been good to his word and had held onto her no matter what. And she had let him go. She hadn’t reciprocated his loyalty—and loyalty mattered more to her than her life.

Angel made a sudden decision. She could not let Thor go. No matter what.

As the cutthroats began to pull the net over the deck, Angel suddenly let go and leapt away from the ship.

She dove down, headfirst, aiming right for the icy waters below, aiming for Thor’s body, which she could already see sinking beneath the waves.

From up here, she was able to look out and see the entire ocean, and she glanced out and looked for any sign of the others, Thor’s brothers, floating somewhere out there, maybe clinging to debris.

But there was none. They were all dead. All of Thor’s legion brothers. All dead.

Now, it was only she and Thor.

As she dove down for the frigid waters, she knew the ocean would kill them both. But that meant nothing to her.

Having a chance to save Thorgrin’s life was all that mattered. And she would take it—no matter what the cost.