Chapter 19: Keepsake
Shyvana shook her head vehemently, glaring at the prince as though he was mad. "You're fucking crazy," she quipped, and turned away from him.
"That's the only way we can get her out of here," Jarvan argued. "You asked for a solution, and I gave you. Yet you poke holes in them,"
In a fit of rage she whirled back. "You plan to attract every-fucking-one on this ship to us!"
Jarvan crossed his arms in disbelief. "So, you have a better idea?"
"No,"
"We go with my idea then,"
She remained unconvinced, pacing back and forth nervously while glaring at him. He saw how her fingers kept fiddling with her cloak, a clear sign of how anxious she was. "What if," she murmured. "What if Gangplank decides we are much more dangerous than the army of the dead, and decides to send all his men and cannons onto us? We can't escape then."
"Are you saying you're regretting your choice of saving this poor creature over here?" Jarvan gestured to the Marai, whom they had helped remove the harpoon from her tail. He quickly rubbed alcohol onto her wound after that, and did his best to staunch the bleeding.
Shyvana's frown only deepened as she stared right back at him. He simply quirked an eyebrow, daring her to respond. She sighed, and stopped pacing.
"Stand back, prince," she lifted a hand, and conjured a fireball in her palm. The fire danced and grew larger, brightening the whole room as the half-dragon took aim. She drew back her hand, then threw it at the wall.
The fireball hit the wooden wall hard, and exploded.
Once the dust cleared, splinters and broken driftwood fell into the sea beneath them. A large hole, about two arm spans and six feet high was blown right through the captain's cabin. Gangplank will not be pleased.
The ship rumbled and listed more violently. And Shyvana was very sure she had just brought the whole crew's attention to both of them.
"Help me!" Jarvan heaved as he pushed the heavy glass tank towards the hole. Shyvana snuffed out the fire in her palm, and rushed to help the prince tilt the glass tank towards the sea.
The Marai inside stared at them both intently, too exhausted to move. She hardly had the strength to wince or cry out in pain when Jarvan plugged her wound, and the half-dragon only hoped that their efforts would not be futile.
Shyvana and Jarvan grunted, using every last ounce of strength to tilt the tank sideways. With a loud cry, they both pushed hard, and the heavy glass tank finally toppled to the side with a thud. The freshwater within the tank, tainted with blood, poured into the sea where the broken driftwood still floated above the surface.
The Marai fell out of the tank as well, and dropped right into the sea with a splash. They both held their breath and watched, hoping that they were not too late. They watched, waiting for any movement beneath the sea.
The Marai's tail surfaced for a moment, and with a flick, she dived deep underneath, vanishing from their sight.
Jarvan breathed a sigh of relief, until they both heard a frightening roar like that of an angered beast. Their heads snapped in the direction of the voice, and there, leaning over the railings of his precious ship was Gangplank – his face so red with fury that it almost matched his flaming sword.
He raised his gun at them both, and fired two quick shots.
Shyvana acted on instincts, and wrapped both arms around the stunned prince while pushing him back. The shots missed and hit the wooden floorboards, puncturing two holes onto the floor of his own cabin.
The half-dragon made sure that they were out of Gangplank's range, before she dragged Jarvan from the ground. "We have to leave," she cried, alarmed. "We have to leave, now!"
Jarvan agreed and quickly rushed to his feet. They made their way across the spacious cabin hurriedly, without the help of fire to light up their path. Shyvana had no problem maneuvering through the hordes of treasure, but all Jarvan could see was black shapes within the dark, and he kept stubbing his greaves and crashing his hip against chests and cupboards, to which he cursed and winced in pain.
Shyvana stopped. "Which way?"
Jarvan walked forward, stumbling as he accidentally kicked an odd trinket out of its place. Without another word, he led them both out of the cabin into another corridor, this time much wider and not obstructed by various crates and barrels.
The belly of the ship was criss-crossed with several corridors and paths to cabins. Most of the dark pathways were lighted with low-burning torches held by scones affixed to the walls, and as they moved through the corridors, Shyvana's ears twitched every time she picked up a sound. The battle was still raging, but no doubt Gangplank had sent a few men below deck to search for them.
They kept walking forward, till they reached a staircase that led them deeper into the ship. Jarvan directed the way, and they both descended until they came across a rusty metal door. The prince twisted the knob and pushed gently, noticing how it wasn't locked.
"The lock is picked," he whispered. "We are in the right way,"
And just as Jarvan opened the door ajar, it led them to a chamber where there were two boats, carved and made out of elder oak. Oars were tied to the boats, and the size was clearly made to accommodate six people at most. Shyvana could not help but wonder about the extremely meagre number of boats on the ship, whereas Gangplank's crew easily spanned hundreds of pirates.
Then she realized that the boats were only prepared for a few selected people. And she wondered if Gangplank kept this a secret from his pirate crew who were willing to die for him.
Far across the chamber was a released ramp, where the width was so narrow it could only fit two persons. And there was where the rest of Jarvan's company stood – Lance inspecting the condition of the boats, Alfie with his bow drawn, and August, forever sneering as he looked out at the sea through the space where the ramp was released. They still donned the Jagged Hooks' attire, and armed with curved swords and scimitars.
Behind Lance was a large leather sack, obviously filled.
"Taking advantage, Lance?" Jarvan sighed.
"Just some supplies for our following journey, prince. There isn't room for ethics or moral in times of desperation," August turned to the prince, though his glare was fixed on the half-dragon, stretching his scars even more as his face contorted in fury.
Lance shrugged, and went near the ramp.
"The titan went down. Gangplank won," Alfie said.
"He still has the army of undead to take care of," August snarled.
"No matter," Shyvana said nonchalantly, unafraid to stoke the soldier's ire. "We've just exposed ourselves to everyone. Gangplank would unleash hell upon us. I don't think he cares about the Black Mist anymore,"
As expected, August's eyes only burnt even brighter with fury. His lips curled in distaste, but Shyvana remained unfazed, glaring back at him with equal hatred. "I suppose that explosion earlier was thanks to you?" his hand went to his bludgeon, fiddling with the handle furiously.
"You have a problem with that?" Shyvana arched an eyebrow at him.
Jarvan noticed the tension between them, and stood in August's way with his hand up in a placating manner. "She was acting under my orders,"
"Like hell I am, Jarvan," she sneered at the prince. "I did it because we were running short of time, and there was no other way. I'm not one of your dogs," she spat the last word while staring at August, urging him to fight back.
The prince's eye twitched in irritation, and he thought he finally had enough. "Enough!" he raised his voice, and both August and Shyvana stared at him in shock. The half-dragon's anger was replaced by surprise, astonished by the prince's anger. And she shut up.
Lance feigned a look of ignorance, and walked towards them. "Like you said, all eyes are on us," he crossed his arms, and scratched his closely cropped brown hair. "We can't escape, they will definitely see us. And no matter how fast we row, one blast from their cannons and we are done for,"
"Even in this dark?" Jarvan asked.
Lance nodded. "The seamen are trained to have good eyes, my prince. More so for the Bilgewatians. Seeing in the dark is simply their inborn ability,"
"Is there no other way?" Jarvan muttered.
"There is," August said, his ugly lips suddenly curling into a smug grin as he glared at Shyvana. "We can cause a distraction. And our friend here seems adept at that kind of skill,"
The half-dragon scoffed. Jarvan looked at him with a puzzled face.
"She can wreak havoc on the ship. Cause some destruction, since that's what she's so good at. The pirate king and the rest of his crew will have their hands full with the undead and a dragon, while the rest of us will release the boats into the sea, and row away until we're out of the cannons' range," August looked at Shyvana and dared her to protest, but the half-dragon only listened intently, considering his plan.
"Row away while she's still on the ship?" Jarvan frowned.
"She's a dragon. Dragons fly,"
The prince was not convinced. "Sounds rather dangerous,"
"It's a sound plan," the half-dragon admitted, hating to agree with the soldier who had hated her ever since they first met. "Dangerous, but it will work,"
"How?" Jarvan asked, agitated. "There are more than enough men on this ship who would easily notice us escaping with their boats. Gangplank will not take it lightly,"
"Then I'll show them something spectacular. I doubt sea savages have ever seen a human girl morphing into a dragon," Her voice was flat, as though she was not even worried about her own life.
Jarvan stared at her, his lips pursed in a taut line. He was silent for half a minute, before he made up his mind. "I'll go with you then,"
Both Shyvana and August stared at him with eyes wide as saucers.
"Prince, you cannot," the soldier snarled.
"You're mad, Jarvan," Shyvana shook her head.
"Gangplank has his eyes on us. He wants both of us dead," he argued. "If he sees only you, with me missing, he'll be aware of it. And the plan will flunk if I were to go with Lance and the others,"
"What then?" August asked with a panicked voice. "If we got far away, how will you escape from the ship?"
Jarvan shrugged. "Dragons fly," he simply answered, looking at Shyvana.
She would have laughed at the stupid look on August's face, had she not been glaring at the prince. She did not know ifhe offered to help her in making a distraction just so they could get away safely, or if it was simply out of worry for her - that responsibility he always felt he had for her.
August obviously wanted to protest, but he said nothing.
"We better hurry," Lance ushered. "There's no time left. We'll begin at your signal, half-dragon," he stared at her warily, but unlike August, his gaze held neither contempt nor hatred, just suspicion.
Jarvan nodded, brandished his lance, and walked towards the door. Shyvana was about to follow, before August reached out and grabbed her wrist in a death grip, holding her in place.
She glared at the soldier, and she felt heat gathering in her arms.
"You think you have earned the prince's favour," August mocked. "He is obviously besotted with you, aye, I know how well you've manipulated him. Your presence will only taint his name, his honour. Do not think that you can love him, beast,"
Shyvana returned his heated glare. "You think you know everything," she spat. Her golden eyes glowed twice as bright, but August was clearly not afraid, nor was he intimidated by the growing heat in his grip. "You don't," she pulled her hand away from him roughly, and turned her back on him.
She could still feel his hateful eyes on her as she exited the quarterdeck, but she had more pressing matters to worry about.
Two pirates rushed towards them in the narrow corridor with their swords aloft. Shyvana prepared herself for combat, but the prince only held her back, with his lance held in one hand.
"It's too narrow. Allow me," he whispered to her. Shyvana realized how if they fought side-by-side in this corridor they would only end up injuring each other. She nodded, and stood back while the prince waved his lance, taunting their assailants.
The pirates charged, then swung their scimitars at once.
Jarvan reacted swiftly and parried their blades skilfully. One pirate bounced away, dazed, while the other rushed in again, hoping to land a hit on the prince. Their skills were vicious and aggressive, but far too predictable. The prince simply stepped out of the blade's reach with ease, not even bothering to shield himself with his lance.
Shyvana kept some distance between them, and watched. Her gauntlets were heating up, just in case things got ugly.
One pirate howled a battle cry, and thrust his sword with tremendous force. Jarvan saw it coming and dodged, catching the pirate off guard. His momentum threw him forward, and before he could swing his sword backward, Jarvan thrust his lance, and it pierced through the pirate's back before emerging from his chest.
The pirate gurgled as he choked on his blood, and fell to his knees.
"You son of a bitch!"
Jarvan pulled his lance out, spilling blood onto his armour and the floor. He swung his lance in a roundhouse sweep, and the tip of the lance slashed the other pirate right across the belly, spilling guts and blood everywhere.
He screamed in horror and dropped his sword, before keeling over and died.
Shyvana tutted. "Could have done it a little cleaner, prince,"
Jarvan quirked a brow at her. "I was trying to parry, didn't realize he would charge at me like a bull,"
"Nevertheless," she shrugged, and stepped over the gore that littered the corridor. "That's the fifth and sixth pirate who are on us. Gangplank probably sent the whole army on our way,"
"Good," the prince followed closely behind. "The plan will run smoothly then,"
They walked in silence along the corridor, climbing wooden stairs as they made their way to the deck. Jarvan watched her closely, noticing how her shoulder slumped slightly in exhaustion, and how her arm on her wounded side was dangling slightly. He was about to ask her if she was fine, when she suddenly stopped.
"Shyvana?" Jarvan asked.
The half-dragon sighed. "Do you think we'll survive tonight?"
The prince doubted that himself, but he answered. "That's what we've been doing all this while – surviving,"
"It's been a long night," she turned back and stared at the prince. Her eyes were full of fatigue. "Once we walk out there, we might not be able to make it out alive. I can turn into a dragon, but we will still be outnumbered,"
"We only have to buy time,"
"Perhaps. But humans die so easily,"
Jarvan scoffed. "If you're saying how you should go out there alone –"
"That's not what I mean," she reached into her sack and retrieved a folded cloak. When she shook it out, the prince saw how it glimmered with beautiful golden scales, then he noticed how it was actually half-sewn, and he remembered that time when Shyvana was on a tree, sewing her father's hide onto a cloak as best as she could.
She held it out to him. The prince stared at her, confused.
"A token… of our trust," she said awkwardly. "My father's hide can withstand strong heat, even dragonfire. I won't have to worry about burning you alive once we are in the fray. I know it's half-sewn, but you'll still be protected,"
Jarvan stared at her, the half-dragon whose face was a stoic, indifferent mask. Her golden eyes held a glowing ember, showing what she truly felt underneath that icy surface. She may be cold and angry at all times, but here she was, showing him sides of her that she will never show in front of his men.
The prince wanted to say something, but no words could express how he feel.
"And of course," she cleared her throat and looked away, uncomfortable with how he was staring at her. "I'll want it back. I did not say it is yours, j-just lending it," she stammered slightly, much to the prince's mirth. Her eyes lowered slightly, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Just… make it out alive. Keep it well for me,"
Jarvan couldn't help but chuckle, and reached out to accept the cloak.
"I promise,"
They did not open the door to the deck. Shyvana simply blew it to pieces, announcing their arrival to everyone upon the deck.
Gangplank, who had just carved his way through a horde of horsemen, turned towards the source of the noise with his teeth bared. His jerkin and tricorn hat was splattered with blood and black rotting flesh of the undead, and his eyes were crazed, fed with bloodlust.
The putrid stench of decay and the sharp stinging smell of smoke only intensified when the half-dragon allowed her rage to surge through her blood, feeling her entire body burning up and overwhelmed by her draconic senses. Jarvan followed closely behind her, donning her badly-sewn cloak that shone with golden scales and holding out his lance in an intimidating manner.
The pirate king saw her immediately, and his bloodshot eyes and insane grin only grew wider.
"A Halfling! On my ship! And all this while, I thought you were just a weak, mysterious whelp," he bellowed in laughter. All the Jagged Hooks, save the ones who were still battling the Black Mist which was quickly diminishing somehow, turned in their direction. "If only I had known!" Gangplank strode quickly towards her, his gun and sword both aimed at her.
Jarvan stepped back warily, but Shyvana held her ground.
"I will cut down your head, and hang it on the walls of my cabin," he gritted his teeth, and he came closer. Shyvana remained still, her eyes fixed on the crazed captain. The sails of the Dead Pool fluttered slightly.
"I will flay that skin of yours, and wear it proudly in raids," Gangplank pulled out a skin of rum and poured all its contents onto his blade. Using his gun, he made a spark, and the whole sword was ablaze.
Then he stopped, with his face merely inches from hers. No one dared to move.
His voice grew dangerous, and rumbled deeply with bass-like tones as he spoke. "But first I will gouge out those pretty eyes of yours, while you're still alive. And hang you upside down, and litter you with arrows and bolts and harpoons until you drop dead. Slayer of the half-dragon. That will make a fine song, aye?"
Without another word, the half-dragon spread out her arms, and roared.
All around her, fires burst into life. Some of the pirates were caught in the blaze and flailed their arms wildly, screaming as they ran in all directions. Gangplank's jerkin caught fire as well, but he roared in laughter, caught the flimsy fabric in one hand and tore it, revealing his chiselled body littered with scars.
"A good song indeed!" his grin was mad and bloodthirsty, and as though unbothered by the rising heat, he rushed towards the half-dragon who was still engulfed in her own fire, and aimed a quick shot at her.
Jarvan rolled out of her way. The cloak had shielded him against the explosion that Shyvana caused. The half-dragon dodged with such alarming speed that all Jarvan could see was a flicker of her form. Pirates and undead alike descended upon them, and the prince began carving his way through his enemies, so that they wouldn't get close to the half-dragon.
He tried to peek at the rear part of the ship, to see if Lance and the others had heard the signal and started putting a safe distance between themselves and the Dead Pool. But he had too many to fight, and could not be distracted.
Shyvana threw fireballs at the pirate king, who evaded with such finesse that it was almost unfit for a man his size. Some skimmed past his skin, and managed to sear his skin a little, but Gangplank was running amok, and all he could see and feel was the heat of the battle.
Gangplank dashed forward, catching her by surprise. He brought his flaming sword down with a ferocious swing, and Shyvana held up both her metal gauntlets, the flames still shielding her.
The sword clashed against her gauntlets. Steel met steel, and the flames on their weapons only burnt even stronger. Shyvana struggled to hold her gauntlets up, baffled by his almost inhuman strength, and suddenly she felt fear gnawing at her insides.
A hand grabbed the front of her cloak, catching her by surprise. She looked down to see that Gangplank had thrust his hand past the wall of fire, the unbearable heat singeing his skin and flesh. But Gangplank did not seem to feel it. Shyvana faltered a little, and her gauntlets gave way, which the flaming sword descended upon her.
She twisted her body away as best as she could, as the pirate king had her in his grip, halting her movements. However, she could not avoid the sword, and the sharp tip slashed her from her shoulder to her hip, spraying blood upon her face and Gangplank's torso.
The half-dragon's eyes widened in fear and pain, and she gasped as more blood spilled upon the deck. The fire around her died instantly, and Gangplank merely threw her aside, turning to the prince who was still battling a horde of enemies. She fell onto the deck helplessly.
"I'll come back to you later," he growled. "After I deal with this snotty bastard," he turned his back on her, leaving the defeated half-dragon laying on the deck, blood still spilling from her wound.
Somehow her wounds were not fatal enough to kill her instantly, and like all dragons, she was far more resilient than humans, and it would take her a longer time to die from bleeding out. But still, this wound could kill her, if she did not do something to stop the bleeding.
She felt her strength waning, as though every bit of her energy had left her. Shyvana shuddered in pain, staring at the pirate king whose back was decorated with all kinds of scars – the blatant signs of a survivor. His other hand that had grabbed her was scorched red, and she could see blisters rising, but the captain seemed oblivious to the pain.
This man was a demon. The Jagged Hooks were nothing compared to him.
Jarvan would not survive if he ever fought him.
"Shit," she gasped, rolling over to her good side. Her shoulder screamed in pain, and she felt an agonizing sting in her wound, stripping her of her strength and will to fight.
The prince slammed his way through the pirates, nearly overwhelmed by their numbers. His golden armour was coloured crimson, and the cloak that Shyvana had lent him even had a few patches of blood on it. Sweat beaded his forehead as he looked around, and there was a thin stream of blood lining his cheek, bleeding slightly.
His eyes found the half-dragon, lying on the deck and bleeding profusely, and his heart plummeted in fear. But before he could make his way to her, he heard someone reloading a gun behind him.
He quickly rolled away just as the shot rang out, missing him. When he stood, Gangplank was in front of him, a flaming sword in hand and a gun held in another, but his arm was singed. His face was a mask of terror – hungry for blood and battle, and his desire to kill was evident. His well-toned torso was splattered with blood, and Jarvan was afraid to ask whose blood it belonged to.
The prince prepared himself in a battle stance, suddenly doubting his chances of surviving this battle.
Without another word, Gangplank charged.
Jarvan did not hesitate, and lunged his lance forward. The lance lengthened at the prince's command, just as Gangplank parried it with his sword. The thick air was filled with the sounds of steel ringing, and Jarvan withdrew his lance, ready for another attack.
He noticed that all the pirates were standing aside, some watching their captain fight the prince whereas some helped to repel the remaining undead of the Black Mist. Either way, he realized that they were too afraid to intervene their captain's battle.
"You're afraid, boy," Gangplank mocked. Jarvan knew he was taunting him, and only held his ground, refusing to attack. But what Gangplank said was actually true – the prince's hands were trembling. He had to take a few deep breaths to calm the tremor in his hands.
"Does it matter?" Jarvan said, and he was glad that his voice did not betray the fear in his heart. "You are the king of the seas, we cannot escape you,"
The pirate king chuckled. "Why try then?"
"We weren't escaping," the lie came out as smoothly as he wanted, and the prince allowed himself a smug grin. "We know the treasure you hold. If we were to die here, we might as well make you lose everything first,"
Gangplank's mirthless grin died. And Jarvan could see rage starting to build in his head. Good, the prince thought hopefully, angry men charge blindly.
"Pirate's life doesn't suit me," Jarvan continued. What he was doing was identical to poking a stick at a hungry bear, daring it to lunge and kill. "But you aren't giving us much choice either. We would be doing the world a favour if we bring this ship down with us, should you ever wish to send us to the gibbet,"
A vein bulged and throbbed on Gangplank's forehead. "You talk big, cunt,"
"Oh?" Jarvan couldn't keep the arrogant grin off his face. "So what happened to the Marai you caught?"
His plan worked.
The pirate king roared with wounded pride and charged towards the prince, bringing his sword down in savage swings and slashes. Where earlier Gangplank fought with grace and utmost skill like an experienced swordsman, now he was hacking and slashing like a desperate primitive man. But the strength in his swings were still terrifying, and even when Jarvan dodged and blocked, he could feel the whisper of the air where his flaming sword had cut through mere seconds ago.
The prince expected the captain to slow down once his energy depleted. Instead, Gangplank's strikes got faster and stronger, until Jarvan was blocking more than he was dodging his attacks.
Shit! The prince was having trouble keeping up, and soon one particular swing caught him in his breastplate, and if it weren't for the armour he was wearing he would have been cleaved into two. Jarvan was knocked off the floor, and he fell with a thud, struggling to hold his lance upright.
Gangplank brought up his sword again, ready to land a fatal blow. It came down fast, too fast for the prince to recover from the fall and parry the sword.
Jarvan could only stare in shock.
When Jarvan and Gangplank began their duel, Shyvana was struggling to stay awake. Her face was pale as paper, and her breaths were rapid and shallow. She could only lie on her back and stare at the heavens, her eyes fixed on the darkness – the dark clouds that had concealed the stars and moon from lighting the earth and sea.
How quaint, she sighed. To die in the middle of the sea amidst enemies. They won't build me a pyre. They will probably just toss me overboard, and my corpse will feed the fishes. So cold, so lonely.
If you don't want that, a voice scolded her lightly. Shyvana closed her eyes in frustration, trying to shut it out to no avail. Stand up and fight, then.
"How?" she murmured. "I barely have the strength to stay awake. I can't fight him. He's too strong,"
Excuses, it chided. You poor, poor child. You are too scared to face him, and so you choose to lay down and die.
"You know nothing,"
The voice tutted, rumbling behind her head. It was starting to give her a headache, and Shyvana groaned slightly. I know everything, you poor child. If only you know what you're capable of. Your father taught you badly.
"Whoever the fuck you are, don't insult my father," she growled, then realized how stupid she sounded, scolding an imagined voice in her head. The half-dragon moaned and sighed, steadying her breaths and controlling her anger as the pain intensified. Pain always makes one lose his mind.
She closed her eyes, knowing she would succumb to her injuries at any moment. She was too weak to even summon a spark, and she was all burnt out. Shyvana heaved an excruciating sigh, accepting her fate.
Oh, the voice taunted. You think I'm just a figment of your imagination? A voice conjured by that simple mind of yours? Poor, poor child. Apparently Aurus Signum fathered a half-wit.
Shyvana's eyes shot wide open upon hearing her father's name. The Golden Sign, she thought as her father's name popped up in her mind – her father had mentioned to her what his name meant, but she never knew why he was called that way. The Golden Sign? She understood how his skin and scales were a beautiful sheen of bronze and gold, like a fresh-forged suit of golden armour, but why sign?
"Who are you?" she spoke to no one in particular, her eyes still affixed to the inky black skies above her. The voice went silent for a moment, and she thought that maybe she really imagined it. She was dying after all…
One of your kind, it spoke again. The voice was firm, sure and confident, like a king. One of your own. One of my blood. The thunder is my voice, and the rains are my tears. When my rage wakes, the storm awakes as well. Aurus mentioned a child. He wanted you to come to me.
"You're not real," she whispered to herself. She could not understand what was told, and so she denied him. "I don't know who or what you are, but you are not real,"
She almost felt the skies growl in anger, as though there really was a storm coming.
I hope you're just being stupid because you're half-dead, child. Get up. Get up and fight. Today is not the day you die.
"I wish I could," she murmured in dismay. "I'm so tired," she whined softly, and closed her eyes, wanting to rest for a while.
The dark skies flashed for a moment, and there was indeed the deep rumble of thunder. A storm. A storm is coming.
Get up, you stupid child! The skies flashed again and thunder boomed, lighting up the sky. Still, no rain came. She wanted to feel the soft kiss of the rain, to wash the blood away. Get up! Remember your father! Remember your keepsake! Avenge your father! Protect what will finally be yours, you dense child!
What will finally be mine, Shyvana thought, and she reached out to touch the jewel hiding beneath her withered, bloodied cloak; the cool touch of the smooth polished edges met her fingertips. She almost smiled at that thought, thinking of the prince. Behind her closed eyes, she saw him smiling with that kind, genuine smile that she had come to adore.
Protect him! Protect what is yours! You have lost enough!
When Shyvana opened her eyes, they were bright golden with newfound rage.
Gangplank brought his flaming sword down, ready to split the man's skull into half. His mouth was wide with a triumphant grin, knowing he could never parry his fatal blow. He savoured the look on his face – horrified, appalled, knowing he was going to die.
The flaming sword was two inches from his face, when something hard yet soft crashed into him from his left, knocking the breath straight out of his lungs. Despite the hard blow Gangplank's grip remained on his sword while he was propelled to the far end of the ship, still wondering what was happening.
His head was tossed around, and before he could break his fall and see what interrupted his duel, a large claw reached out for his head. Gangplank cursed and ducked, at the same time holding his sword aloft.
The clawed hand grabbed his flaming sword, rendering him immobile if he kept his hold on his sword. Looking forward, Gangplank saw her, the half-dragon in mid-transformation, which she lived up to her name.
A whirlwind of flames encircled her, and Gangplank could feel his skin tightening and beginning to sear from the heat. His tricorn hat was blown away, revealing his head which was bald in the middle, but with thick hair as black as his heart. The half-dragon's cloak swirled and flapped amidst the circle of flames, and her face was the face of an angry dragon, full of burning hatred and ire.
Her red and gold gauntlets melted and encased her hands, which was quickly turning into claws and covered in blue-grey scales. Her pupils narrowed into slits, and her forearms were growing into wings that spanned almost as wide as his sails. Her sea of red hair grew and formed a long tail, lashing about in an enraged rhythm.
Gangplank stared. Never had he truly seen such a sight, and he found it terrifying yet beautiful. He was petrified, until he realized his breeches were smoking, and his instincts prompted him to let go of his sword, and rolled aside.
He watched as the girl, now fully transformed into a dragon with steel grey skin and blazing golden eyes, grabbed his sword in both hands and roared. His sword glowed red-hot, then white, and that was when the half-dragon simply bent it until it was a useless hunk of steel. She threw it aside unceremoniously.
The pirate king grinned. Aye, a good song indeed. One to die for.
Jarvan watched as the dragon's tail whipped around, agitated. He saw how the wooden floorboards blackened as her fire touched them, and how the long, bloody slash from her shoulder to her hip dripped with boiling blood, hissing and smoking as it touched the cold deck. The prince shuddered, trying to still his thundering heartbeat, which had still not recovered from his near-death experience earlier.
He cursed, grabbed his lance with shaking fingers and got up.
The dragon began pounding her claws on the pirate king, but Gangplank was lithe as he was strong and deadly. Every punch the half-dragon landed on the deck was filled with fire, and as she snapped the boards into half, splinters of wood burst into flames. Gangplank dodged every punch and fired his gun whenever he could, trying his hardest to aim a quick and true shot, but the dragon was quicker.
Fire spread, then the pirates grew frantic. Some began shouting in fear and bringing out buckets of water, trying to douse the flames.
Shyvana was more than angered. Everywhere she went, a long stream of blood trailed behind her. Gangplank was laughing, a wicked gleam in his eyes, dancing around as the dragon's punches missed a few times, though there were gashes of blood and blackened spots upon the pirate king's face and naked torso.
Jarvan had never seen a man so fearless, so bloodthirsty.
Then the prince caught sight of a silhouette out in the sea, far yet noticeable. He could trace the outline of a boat, approaching the horizon, to where Jarvan did not know. He looked back at the stream of blood trailing after the half-dragon, only to know that they were running out of time.
Strangely, the skies flashed as rain began to pour. Drizzle at first, then it was as though the skies was maddened by the existence of the dragon, answering her call with lightning and deafening thunderclaps. The wind picked up, and began whipping the sails with tremendous force.
What was even more strange was Hecarim, the spectral warrior who was fused with his steed, burst out of nowhere, with tentacles wrapped around him and green fire enveloping his form. He waved his glaive like a crazed man, howling and cursing in disgust as his legionnaire ran free. Barrels and crates and chests were all knocked over, with the pirates who were putting out the flames hopping to one side, getting out of their way.
"For the Ruined King!" Hecarim roared, his hooves pounding in an irregular rhythm. Far behind him, Illaoi struggled with her golden idol, her Eye of God that shimmered and glowered with raw power, trying its best to hold down Hecarim.
Shyvana and Gangplank simply took no heed of Hecarim's appearance. Gangplank pulled a sword from a dead pirate and fought the half-dragon sword to claw.
Hecarim struggled against Nagakabouros' hold, his hooves stamping furiously and his glaive swinging around in rage, accidentally slicing his fellow horseman in the shoulder. Hecarim screamed, as more tentacles wrapped about him.
The green fire that engulfed him blazed higher, and suddenly Hecarim was free, bursting from his restrains like a provoked bull let out of its stable. He charged forward with surprising speed, rushing towards Shyvana and Gangplank.
The prince frantically raised his hand, conjuring his magic shield around the half-dragon. The horseman crashed into both the shielded dragon and Gangplank, who was unprotected, but the momentum he built was so great, that the shield shattered instantly, sending the dragon sprawling and skidding across the deck. Gangplank was sent flying into a pile of sacks, which knocked him out even though they cushioned his fall.
Jarvan heaved and collapsed to one knee. He had never tried forming a shield so large in such little time, and it sapped his energy greatly. Nonetheless, he climbed to his feet, striding over to the dragon who was getting up and trying to make her way to Gangplank.
"Shyvana," he wheezed, the cloak shielding him from her flames but he still felt uneasy with the heat around him. The dragon's head turned around, glaring at him, growling softly. "We have to go,"
"Let me kill him," she hissed, her voice scaring him.
"No," he masked his fear, and said flatly. The half-dragon's eyes glowered. "Your wound, it can kill you. Save your strength and let's get out of here. It's not worth it,"
She was about to protest, when Hecarim woke from his fall, spinning around like a disoriented man. But all around him, the temperature plummeted drastically, and not even Shyvana's flames could warm the cold.
A cold green mist wafted through the ship, obscuring their vision. The rain continued to pour, and Jarvan had to struggle to see the boat in the distance, slowly fading out of his sight.
Hecarim howled and killed everything in sight, even his own horseman. Gangplank was still unconscious in the corner, whereas Illaoi and the band of pirates stayed out of Hecarim's way, their weapons raised warily but not daring enough to approach the spectre's wrath. The undead was all repelled, leaving Hecarim and his legion which he was butchering mercilessly.
"Where are you?!" he roared, cutting another one of his own with his glaive. "Reveal yourself!" The mist soon reached him, and Hecarim stopped his crazed slaughter instantly, lowering his glaive and looking around.
His eyes fell on the dragon and the prince, then on the pirate king who was groaning slightly, then on the priestess of the Mother Serpent and the pirates who faced him with trepidation. But he saw none of them, as though they never truly existed.
For one moment, there was only the hiss of the rain. Even the thunder stopped. Complete silence.
Then a blue-green spectral spear shot through the mist and embedded itself into the deck, two steps away from Jarvan.
Amidst the growing mist, the prince made out the shape of a thin, scrawny figure. A warrior, no doubt, armoured but there was something protruding from its back. And in its hand was a spear, poised and ready to throw.
"Traitor," a female voice rumbled throughout the ship, vindictive and hateful.
She spoke only one word, but Hecarim flashed a grin. He reared on his hind legs, brandishing his glaive and cackled, looking at the warrior amidst the mist.
"Yes, I remember you," his tone was low, but proud of himself.
The figure in the mist did not speak. All around them, the tension grew tenfold.
Hecarim's grin then quickly turned into disgust, his spectral form glowing twice as bright. When he spoke, his tones were sombre and full of undeniable hate.
"Kalista,"
"Shit! We have to go! Quickly!" Jarvan tapped the dragon's shoulder nervously, while she snapped at him, annoyed.
"Hold onto my neck!"
The prince wrapped his hands around the half-dragon's neck, as Shyvana spread her wings wide and was about to take flight. Jarvan could feel her hot blood seeping through his armor, but he kept his hold around her tightly as her legs pushed forward, running towards the railings.
She smashed into a ballista, throwing bits and pieces of metal around as she charged forward. Jarvan gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tightly, then Shyvana roared and they were suddenly in the air.
Meanwhile, Gangplank woke up. He groaned and his hand went to his head, rubbing his temple furiously. He remembered little where he was still fighting the half-dragon, until something crashed into them and rendered him unconscious.
"Fuck," he cursed, and got up from the sacks he was lying on. He immediately noticed the mist around him, and the unnatural chill seeping through his bones. His vision swam, but Gangplank could make out shapes, and he quickly looked for the half-dragon.
His heart sank out of fear when he saw the man in the golden armour hanging around the dragon's neck, holding on tightly. Then the dragon rushed forward, destroying one of his ballistae and took flight, gliding through the air and away from his ship.
"Damn you!" he bellowed and got up a little too quickly, which he swayed slightly when he was on his feet. He was oblivious to the new guest aboard his ship, his heart overwhelmed with anger and frustration having lost the dragon again.
Then his eyes fell on the other ballista beside the destroyed one – loaded and ready to fire.
"Fuck!" Jarvan screamed, his stomach churning and ready to turn. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" his hold on the dragon's neck tightened, as he closed his eyes tightly. Shyvana sailed through the air at blinding speed, and Jarvan could only feel the wind whipping his face.
Shyvana growled. "Stop thrashing around! You're not a fucking princess!"
"I wasn't ready! Fuck it! You're going too fast!"
"Goddammit, Jarvan," Shyvana hissed, obviously annoyed. "If you keep rolling around like a girl I'll have to throw you off –"
She suddenly gasped, and her whole body trembled. Jarvan noticed how her wings had stopped pumping, and he thought he felt something cold and hard touching his leg.
When he looked down, a long, massive spear protruded from the dragon's body and was right between his legs. The tip of the spear was drenched in blood. Shyvana shuddered again, saying nothing, still gliding through the air.
"Shyvana?" he called out. But she did not respond.
Then suddenly they were falling, and falling. And they plunged into the sea underneath.
He kept his hold on her, hanging onto her neck as they were underneath the black waves. It was cold and dark all around him, and he only tightened his hold, even though he realized that she was weighing him down. His feet kicked vigorously to stay afloat and not sink deeper into the depths, and finally his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
The half-dragon slowly shrunk, reverting back to her human form with the spear still protruding from her abdomen. Her eyes were closed, with her blood flowing freely into the sea, and bubbles of air streaming from her mouth and nose.
The prince held one arm around her shoulders, careful not to toss her around or it would tear her wound even further. But it was impossible not to if he had to swim forward. He mustered all his strength and kicked forward and upward, praying that he was not too far from his men.
His heart hammered madly, fearing for her life. But he banished the thought from his mind. First he would have to get themselves to the surface first.
As though hearing his prayers, an oar reached into the depths, telling him that he was not far from the surface after all. He used all his strength and kicked forward, with the half-dragon slack in his arm, and finally he reached out and grasped the oar firmly.
With a rough tug, Lance and August pulled them up. Jarvan broke the surface with a loud gasp.
"Help," his teeth chattered from the cold, and they quickly helped him up, after dragging the unconscious half-dragon into the boat first. He was shivering violently, unable to keep the chill away. "Give… Give me all the medical supplies you have… She's dying,"
Shyvana gasped for air as Alfie laid her on her side, avoiding the spear that was buried deep into her abdomen. She started coughing violently, and she shuddered, a stream of blood flowing from her lips.
"The wounds, there's nothing we can do. I'm surprised she's still alive," Lance winced.
Jarvan hurried over to her, upending all the contents in his satchel. Alfie took out rolls of bandages, antiseptics and healing salves. August searched as well, but only handed out rolls of bandages.
"It's all I have," August said"Lance, keep rowing,"
"We're far away from the Dead Pool, at least," Lance assured.
"I don't care about Gangplank!" Jarvan yelled, startling his men. He was still shivering from the cold, but Shyvana trembled even more violently, her rapid breaths a sign of how much pain she was in.
"No human can survive this, prince," Alfie's voice was small, staring at the half-dragon remorsefully.
"She's only half-human," Jarvan denied. "She can survive this. There's a chance. We only need to help her," He could feel August's eyes boring a hole into him, but he was too scared to care.
"Get the spear out," August said lowly. "If you need to help her, get rid of the spear first,"
"Is she still awake?" Lance asked, and passed a bottle of seeds to the prince. Jarvan accepted and looked into the contents. Poppy seeds, he thought, and understood how well one seed could numb the pain.
"Shyvana," he laid her head on his lap, tapping her cheek softly. "Can you hear me?"
The half-dragon trembled and coughed, but she answered. "You fucking shouted in my ear," she quipped, but her voice was weak and soft, and the prince had to struggle to hear her. "Of course I did,"
"I'm going to yank the spear out. Here, take this," he placed a seed near her lips, which Shyvana accepted without so much as a grunt. Jarvan and Alfie then grasped the shaft of the spear, their expressions grim as Shyvana's face still contorted in pain.
Without warning, they pulled. The spear slid out without much resistance, but Shyvana's eyes flared open and she screamed.
Blood poured from her wound, and Lance and Alfie quickly pressed bandages near the large hole in her abdomen, doing their best to try to slow the bleeding. August took the oars and rowed. Jarvan started stitching the wound that gashed from her shoulder to her hip, the one that drenched her cloak crimson.
Somewhere in his mind, he knew he couldn't save her. They do not have the supplies to mend the hole in her abdomen, and she was bleeding out. Jarvan felt his eyes burning, but he refused to admit it.
"You're an idiot, you know that?" Shyvana sighed. "Why bother? You can't save me,"
"I have to try," he choked. "Can you make fire? Perhaps it can help,"
Shyvana reached out her hand and opened her palm. Her fingers were stained with her own blood, and a spark flared, then winked out. She tried harder, her whole body trembling violently, then her hand simply went slack.
"I can't," she sighed in defeat. Alfie lowered his head. Jarvan still continued the stitches, refusing to accept her fate.
"Jarvan, stop what you're doing,"
"I have to try," he shed a tear, but nothing more. "I have to,"
"Jarvan, it won't work,"
His hands stopped, her wounds barely stitched. His head hung low, and he hid his face beneath his hair, ashamed to look at her.
"Please, look at me," she spoke softly, and he did. He saw how her eyes were dimmed, having lost the fire in them, and how her lips paled as blood matted her cheeks and chin. She smiled at him, just a slight curl at the corner of her lips.
"You've been nothing but good to me," for once, her voice was free of anger. "I hope it's not too much to ask… Can you do me one last favour?"
"Could never say no to you," he reached into her gauntlet and held her hand, squeezing it gently. Her hand was cold, which wasn't like her. Usually she was full of fire, but now all the warmth had left her. Jarvan forced a smile despite the grief he felt, and cradled her head in his lap.
"Build me a pyre when you reach the land," she whispered. He rolled his thumb across her palm, caressing her. She took another deep breath before speaking. "And scatter my ashes into the wind. That is all I ask of you,"
"I'll hunt him down," Jarvan vowed. "The drake. I will help you avenge your father. And for you, for the life you deserved but could never live,"
"No," she spoke sharply. Her hand twitched slightly in his grasp. "Go home, prince. Leave him be. Do the most good you can for this wretched world. Everyone deserves kindness. Your mother would love to see you again," her voice grew softer, and trailed away. She took his hand and guided him to the small sack beneath her cloak.
The sack opened slightly, and his jewel fell out into his hand. It gleamed brightly. And Shyvana grinned proudly, her teeth and mouth full of blood. He could not see anger or hatred on her face, only acceptance and content. "I kept my promise,"
Jarvan sobbed, but he still refused to let the tears fall. Instead, he held her hand tightly, looking into her eyes as they closed.
"I wish," she murmured softly, only loud enough for his ears. "I wish we could have met under different circumstances," her hand went slack in his hold, and she ceased breathing.
There was only silence on the boat. August and Alfie said nothing, leaving the prince to mourn for the half-dragon. Lance took the oars and continued rowing, the rain no longer a heavy downpour but just a slight drizzle. Even the wind was still.
The prince held her cold body close to him, her head right under his chin. The blood had stopped flowing, but it was already too late. He kissed her on the top of her head once, twice; with his other hand gripping his sapphire with rage. He hoped that somehow her dragonblood had worked miracles, and anytime she would wake up and slap him across his face for holding her so intimately.
But she only remained still. Dead. In his arms.
The prince sighed. Then he heard a voice calling out, singing. Soft and lonely. Full of grief, sadness and angst.
Lance and Alfie looked around warily. August reached for his weapon. Jarvan only ignored the voice and sighed into Shyvana's hair, breathing her scent. She smelled of smoke and fire, and it reminded him how feisty she always was. That thought only left him feeling hollow inside, as though something in him died with her as well.
Another voice sang, joining in the song.
"Prince," August warned.
"Leave them be," he sighed, brooking no argument.
Soon it was a choir. All singing in sad, grievous tones. Alfie looked around the boat with fear, and they noticed something swimming just beneath the surface, something so extraordinary, he reared back instantly, astounded.
A head broke the surface of the sea – a young maiden, with doll-like eyes and full lips staring at August, Lance and Alfie. Her eyes were black and yellow, with her skin that shone with unusual green and blue hues, but the girl was still beautiful.
The men stared and said nothing, astonished.
A few more broke surface. They surrounded the boat in a wide circle, doing nothing and just staring at them in wonder and curiosity. But they never stopped singing, their melodic voices mesmerizing and wondrous, singing songs which could bring men to tears.
"Prince," Lance muttered. "We're surrounded,"
Jarvan finally looked up, and saw the horde of Marai that surrounded them. His eyes were red and his face was grim and full of grief. The prince said nothing, knowing that the Marai all had their eyes on him. He only held Shyvana tighter, refusing to let go.
"The one in your hand," a young girl spoke behind him, and Jarvan turned, startled. It was a young Marai that looked almost similar to others, but there was an aura about her that told him that she was their leader. Her headdress was like a flowing veil of woven scales and seaweed, with a rather bright blue stone in the middle of it; and her eyes were full of hope and wonder. She was staring at the Demacian sapphire in his hand. "Is that the moonstone? Are you the one?"
Jarvan's brows knotted in a frown. "Moonstone?"
Her face fell. And Jarvan suddenly felt sorry for her. "You are not the one? The bearer of the moonstone that glows even in the darkest abyss? I got you the abyssal pearl, isn't that what you want?"
Her hand reached out from the sea. In her palm was a round, beautiful pearl that was as dark as the night. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he knew he wasn't the one she was looking for.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about, or who is the one you seek," he showed her his sapphire, that only glowed slightly before fading out. "This is just a normal gem,"
"Oh," she looked down in shame, her head bobbing slightly above the surface. Some of the Marai began floating away as well, disappointed with their results. Then the young Marai looked at the half-dragon, snug in the prince's arms, and her eyes shone with pity.
"Is she alright?" she asked.
"She's dead," he croaked, looking away.
"She has such beautiful red hair, and her skin…" the Marai's voice trailed away, then her eyes widened as realization dawned upon her. "… blue-grey skin, and a man in golden armour. It was you?"
Jarvan looked at her nonchalantly, too tired to wonder what she was saying. He arched an eyebrow, puzzled at why the Marai was beaming happily.
"Why, you saved one of our sisters!" she grinned. "You and her, freed her from the cruel men! Thanks to you she was returned to the sea, and recovering from her wounds,"
Jarvan offered a sad smile. "That is good to hear,"
"The lady… Do you love her?"
Silence.
"It does not matter now," he whispered, stroking Shyvana's hand softly. "She's gone, there's nothing I can do,"
"I can help you,"
Jarvan looked at her warily. He wanted to believe her, but she was too far gone to be saved.
The Marai remained hopeful, smiling at him happily. "You saved one of our own, it's only fair if we return the favour. If she's dead not long ago, there may be a chance,"
The prince was silent for a long while, before letting out an exasperated sigh. After all, what harm could it do? He shifted the half-dragon in his embrace, leaning her over the edge of the boat. The Marai swam closer, and her hand reached for Shyvana's cold and pale ones.
Behind her, her sisters flocked. Their tails were a beautiful shimmer and gleam that reflected the sea's colours, briefly illuminating the dark waters. Together, they held their hands out, and Jarvan soon realized that their tails were truly glowing, and not just reflecting the sea's colours.
The Marai took Shyvana's hand in hers, and the waves soon rolled stronger, hitting the stern and keel of the boat, rocking it with force.
And the sea water flowed, from the flock of Marai from behind to their leader. She held a staff of a curved, ringed blade with jagged edges and glimmering blue steel. In the other hand, she held the half-dragon's hand, and the water that flowed from them slowly ebbed into her cold pale fingers. Miraculously, the water that touched her fingers seeped through her skin, and soon more water climbed onto her forearm, doing the same.
Water magic, Jarvan was awed. He hardly indulged himself in the arcane arts, as poring over scrolls and ancient tomes was never his hobby. Still, he couldn't help but be amazed and grateful – seeing the seafolk that was only told in legends and fabled stories alive before him, and their inborn ability to work wonders with sea water.
He watched as water continued to flow into Shyvana's dead body. His hope soon turned to ashes when he noticed no change in the half-dragon's condition, until he saw the long ugly scar that stretched from her shoulder to hip began to mend itself, the undone stitches falling off and the flesh began knitting itself. All that was left was a thin red scar that would remain for the rest of her life, but Jarvan couldn't care less.
Then the large hole in her abdomen grew smaller and smaller. Blood still stained and drenched the boat, but her skin that was pale as paper earlier soon coloured, returning to its original sheen of blue and grey.
Her perforated stomach closed, leaving a horrifying scar as well upon her tender flesh. Shyvana did not open her eyes, but suddenly expelled a long intake of breath, and Jarvan did the same as well, not knowing that he had been holding his breath all this while.
He quickly placed two quivering fingers just below her jawbone. He felt movement – a pulse, weak but very much alive.
The prince held her even tighter, and laughed and cried. "Thank you," he sobbed "Thank you so, so much," he looked out into the sea, expecting to see the horde of Marai beaming with joy, but all that met him was silence. The waves calmed and rolled gently against the boat, but there was nothing above the surface.
They simply disappeared, as though they never existed.
Then a long tune sounded far across the sea, and Jarvan knew his thanks were heard.
Shyvana's head laid in his lap, and she did not wake ever since she was revived. But her heartbeat was growing strong, and her breaths were more controlled. Jarvan smiled to himself, stroking her fiery hair with affection.
Alfie took the oars, with August and Lance sleeping in the opposite side. The young lad only kept rowing, but the prince could see he was relieved knowing that the half-dragon managed to stay alive. His men had had a long night, and so had he, but he couldn't sleep just yet.
They had no idea where they were, so they only followed the stars. The downpour had ended, and now the dark clouds no longer concealed the sky. Stars littered the new moon sky, and the prince could easily pinpoint the Frozen Watcher, their only indication that they were going north.
Shyvana's breath shuddered, and Jarvan looked down at her. She shivered slightly from the cold, so the prince took off the cloak she had lent him earlier to cover her. He stopped, looking at the half-dragon's badly-sewn cloak. The handicraft was so atrocious that the golden hide was crumpled and out of place. One part of it peeled away – obviously the cloak was only half-sewn.
His mind shifted to that memory where he had laughed at her when she hid atop the tree sewing the cloak, throwing insults and threats at him as he mocked her sewing skills. The prince smiled, then chuckled lightly at the thought.
Taking a pocket knife from his satchel, he cut away the stitches the half-dragon had made on the cloak. Then he threaded a needle, and began to sew the beautiful golden hide upon the leather cloak.
Longest chapter so far. It was actually supposed to end on a cliffhanger, but that wouldn't be fair. I won't be writing until the end of May, so this is my gift for you, for now. Thank you for reading!