Sea Spell (Waterfire Saga #4)(22)

Stop, Sera, she told herself. Think. Figure this out. She closed her eyes. Listened hard. Turned in a circle. Her ears told her that most of the noise was coming from behind her, toward the south side of the camp. She spun around and shot off that way. Seconds later, she heard her brother’s voice. “Crossbows to the south gate!” he was yelling. “Speargunners, defend the roof!”

“Desiderio, what’s happening?” Sera shouted, swimming up to him.

“Death riders! They ambushed Sophia and her troops in the Darktide Shallows!” he shouted back. “The Black Fins fought their way free and bolted for camp, but the death riders followed them.”

“How many?”

“At least a hundred. Most of them are at the south gate.”

Hope surged in Sera’s heart. The Black Fins vastly outnumbered the death riders.

As if reading his sister’s thoughts, Des said, “We can beat them off, but we need light.” Then he was racing off, yelling, “Songcasters! Get the lights on! Now!”

Sera bolted for the south gate, crossbow raised. A horrible sight met her eyes when she reached it. The bodies of at least two dozen Black Fins were strewn across the court. Dead hippokamps lay among them. In the mouth of the gate itself, death riders, protected by shields, were firing upon the Black Fins trying to defend it.

Some of the Black Fins were down on their bellies, elbows planted in the silt to brace their weapons. Others shot from behind rocks. Sera saw that a few more had positioned themselves behind wagons, some upright, some overturned.

The wagons! she thought. Sophia got them back to camp!

Sera did a quick count. There were nine. That meant the death riders had only gotten one wagonload of their weapons. Thank the gods!

An arrow whizzed by Sera, missing her head by mere inches. She ducked behind a rock. Breathless, her heart slamming in her chest, she loaded her weapon, then peered out and started firing.

An instant later, light rose over the court. The songcasters had succeeded in casting an enormous illuminata.

More Black Fins, able to see their foes now, joined the fray. As they did, a shrill whistle pierced the water, and the death riders fell back. Moving with the speed of sharks, they swam out of the gateway, launched themselves onto the backs of their hippokamps, and rode off into the night.

As quickly as it had started, the attack was over.

A pair of guards hurried to the gates, pushed them closed, and locked them. A group of speargunners swam up behind the guards and angrily demanded that they reopen the gates. They wanted to chase the attackers. Sera swam out from her cover and stopped them.

“It could be a trap,” she said. “There might be more death riders out there, waiting for us. Put your weapons down. Help the wounded. Collect the dead.”

At that moment, a shout for help came from one of the overturned wagons. The speargunners swam to it. Working together, they lifted the wagon off the seafloor and set it upright.

As they did, a bruised and bloodied mermaid swam out from underneath. She was dazed and moved crookedly; her eyes were glassy.

“Sophia!” Sera cried, rushing to her. She took hold of her friend’s arms. “Look at me, Soph. Focus.”

Sophia’s eyes met Sera’s. She shook her head as if to clear it. The glassy look receded. “Came in fast,” she murmured. “Got to the gates, but a death rider shot my hippokamp. She went wild….She bolted. We made it into the court, but the wagon tipped over. I don’t…I can’t remember….” Her eyes widened. “Oh, gods, Sera. Totschl?ger.”

At that instant, a medic—Henri—swam up. He immediately started to treat the wound on Sophia’s forehead, but she shook him off. “Find Totschl?ger, please,” she begged. “He’s been shot. I’m fine! I’m fine! Go find Totschl?ger!”

Sera realized her friend was in shock and edging toward hysteria. She tried to calm her. “It’s okay, Soph. We’ll find him. He’s here. The medics will help him.”

Sera slung one of Sophia’s arms over her shoulder. The two mermaids swam through the court. “Has anyone seen Totschl?ger?” Sera called out.

There were bodies everywhere. Plumes of blood drifted through the water. The cries of the injured echoed off rocks and boulders. Medics rushed to and fro with bandages and stretchers.

Sera kept searching, hoping to spot Totschl?ger’s face among the living, not the dead, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. She was about to give up when she heard someone shouting for her. It was Henri.

“He’s here!” He waved Sera over.

Sera and Sophia rushed to him. They found Totschl?ger lying on his back. His eyes were closed. A wound gaped across his chest, ugly and red. Dread knotted Sera’s stomach. No one can survive an injury like that, she thought.

The fearsome goblin was barely breathing. Henri was kneeling in the silt next to him. Other goblins, and some mer, had crowded around.

“Is he…” Sera started to say, hoping against hope.

Henri shook his head. Sophia’s face crumpled. “He fought so hard, Sera. We only got away because of him. This is my fault!” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault!”

Sera pulled Sophia close. “It’s not your fault, Soph,” she hissed. “Do you hear me? It’s Vallerio’s fault. It’s his fault!”

Suddenly a goblin pushed his way through the crowd, shoving everyone else out of the way. It was Garstig, a goblin commander.