The Damned Paladin

Chapter 132: Sea Journey Begins

Gabriel woke to the sound of waves.

Not the gentle lapping of harbour water, but the steady rush and crash of open ocean. The ship moved differently now, rolling with deep swells that made the hammock sway in slow arcs.

He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The cabin spun slightly, his body protesting the movement after days of hard riding and

violence.

We’re at sea.

The realisation came with equal parts relief and unease. Three weeks to the Isle of Giants. Three weeks away from the Church, from the Order, from Paladins hunting Castor’s killer.

Three weeks trapped on a ship with limited space and nowhere to run if things went wrong.

Gabriel sat up carefully, testing his ribs. They still ached but the sharp edge of pain had dulled slightly. Sleep and the ship’s surgeon had helped. His throat felt less like crushed stone, though swallowing was still uncomfortable.

The cabin was empty except for packs stowed beneath the hammocks. Daylight filtered through the porthole, suggesting late morning or early afternoon.

How long was I asleep?

Gabriel swung his legs off the hammock and stood. The floor moved beneath him and he grabbed a support beam until his balance adjusted to the ship’s motion. Once steady, he made his way to the door and emerged into the corridor.

The Serpent’s Tooth was alive with movement. Crew members passed in both directions, carrying supplies, adjusting rigging, performing the thousand small tasks that kept a ship running. They glanced at Gabriel as he passed but didn’t stop or speak.

He found stairs and climbed to the main deck.

The ocean stretched in every direction, grey-blue water meeting grey-blue sky at a horizon that seemed impossibly distant. Wind filled the green sails overhead, driving the ship northeast at a steady pace. Kelmar was long gone, swallowed by distance and time.

Gabriel moved to the railing and gripped it with both hands, feeling the ship’s rhythm through the wood. The motion was hypnotic. Endless water, endless sky, the ship a small point of wood and canvas between them.

"You’re awake."

Gabriel turned to find Tess approaching. She wore practical ship clothes, her hair pulled back against the wind, and carried two bowls of something that steamed in the cool air.

"How long?" Gabriel asked.

"Two days." Tess handed him one of the bowls. "You collapsed after I left to get the others. Surgeon said your body finally gave out from exhaustion and pain. Said it was a miracle you made it back to Kelmar at all."

Gabriel looked at the bowl. Some kind of fish stew, thick with chunks of potato and onion. His stomach rumbled at the smell.

"Eat," Tess said. "You’ve lost weight you can’t afford to lose."

They ate standing at the rail, watching the ocean roll past. The stew was hot and salty and exactly what Gabriel’s body needed.

"The others?" he asked between bites.

"Gilbert’s below, probably sleeping off last night’s drinking. Torrhen keeps a good stock of ale and Gilbert’s been taking advantage." Tess finished her stew and set the bowl on a nearby crate. "Ennu’s been watching the crew, learning ship routines. Adan’s been helping with rigging when they need extra hands."

"And Mera?"

Tess’s expression tightened. "She stays in the cabin mostly. Barely speaks. When she does come up, she stares at the water like she’s waiting for something to emerge."

Gabriel’s chest tightened. "Did anything happen while I was gone? The six days I was away?"

"Nothing specific. She just... withdrew. Stopped talking to me, stopped eating with the group. I’d find her standing in the inn hallway at night, just standing there staring at your door." Tess met his eyes. "I think not having you there broke something in her."

Shit.

Gabriel finished his stew and set the bowl aside. "I need to talk to her."

"Later. First you need to recover." Tess gestured to the open deck. "Ship’s surgeon said you should walk, keep the ribs from settling wrong. I’ve been keeping your spot open."

She led him across the deck to a clear space near the mainmast. Open enough for movement but sheltered from the worst of the wind.

"This is where I’ve been training," Tess said. "Morning and evening, sword forms and balance work. Ship’s motion makes everything harder."

Gabriel watched the deck roll beneath his feet. "Good for training, though. Forces adaptation."

"That’s what I thought." Tess drew her sword in one smooth motion. "Show me your forms. Slow, because of the ribs. Just enough to keep the muscle memory active."

They spent the next hour moving through basic sword forms. Gabriel’s ribs protested every extension and twist, but Tess was right about keeping mobile. The movement helped, blood flowing, muscles remembering patterns even through pain.

By the time they finished, Gabriel was sweating and breathing hard, but he felt more human than he had in days.

"Better?" Tess asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. Because starting tomorrow, we train properly." Tess sheathed her sword. "You need to push that fire control higher. Fifteen seconds isn’t enough."

Gabriel thought about the book’s warning. Forty-five seconds maximum before death. He was a third of the way there, but each second gained would be harder than the last.

"I’ll train," he said. "But it drains me. Recovery takes hours."

"Then we work around it. Fire training in the morning when you’re fresh. Sword work in the afternoon when you’ve recovered." Tess’s expression softened slightly. "We have three weeks, Gabriel. Use them."

The days settled into a rhythm.

Gabriel woke before dawn and climbed to the deck. In the grey pre-dawn light, he’d find his spot near the mainmast and begin.

Fire training started small. He’d create flames in his palm and hold them, counting seconds, watching his stamina drain. Fifteen seconds remained his maximum, but he could feel the cost more clearly now. The way his body burned through energy, the exhaustion that followed.

He practised shaping the fire. Not just holding it, but forming it into basic shapes. A sphere. A blade. Anything that required precision and control rather than raw power.

The crew watched at first, wary of fire on a wooden ship. But Gabriel was careful, containing every spark, and eventually they grew accustomed to seeing him wreathed in controlled flames each morning.

After fire training came breakfast in the mess. Crew and passengers ate together, simple fare of porridge or bread and whatever fish had been caught overnight. Gabriel ate with his group, though Mera rarely joined them.

Afternoons were for sword work with Tess. They’d spar on deck, testing balance against the ship’s movement, working through forms until Gabriel’s healing ribs screamed and sweat soaked through his shirt.

"Again," Tess would say, and they’d go through the sequence one more time.

Gilbert joined them sometimes, providing commentary that was equal parts helpful and sarcastic. "You’re dropping your guard when you turn. Either commit to the spin or don’t do it at all."

"Noted," Gabriel would say, and adjust.

Adan watched more than participated, but occasionally he’d step in and demonstrate a technique or offer quiet suggestions that always proved useful.

Ennu was everywhere and nowhere, observing crew routines, cataloguing ship operations, gathering information in her silent way.

And Mera stayed below, emerging only for meals she barely touched, her eyes distant and haunted.

A week into the voyage, Gabriel finally cornered her.

He found her on deck at sunset, standing at the stern railing and watching their wake spread across darkening water. She didn’t acknowledge his approach, didn’t turn when he stopped beside her.

"Mera."

Nothing.

"We need to talk about what’s happening with you."

"Nothing’s happening." Her voice was flat. Empty.

"You’re barely eating. Barely speaking. Tess said you were standing outside my door at night while I was gone."

Mera’s hands tightened on the railing. "I was worried. You’d left without explanation. I didn’t know if you’d come back."

"I told the group I had to pay a debt."

"You told them." Mera turned to face him finally, and Gabriel saw something broken in her eyes. "You told Tess more than that, I’m sure. You always tell her more."

"Tess is..."

"Your lover." Mera’s laugh was bitter. "I know. Everyone knows. The way you look at her. The way she touches you like she owns you."

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. "Mera, whatever you think is happening..."

"I think you’ve forgotten your purpose." Mera stepped closer, her intensity suddenly focused and sharp. "The Maker sent you to do something important. Something that requires you to be more than human. But you’re letting her drag you back down to mortal concerns."

"I am mortal," Gabriel said carefully. "Whatever the Order did to me, whatever Dracamerian blood I carry, I’m still just a man."

"You’re so much more than that." Mera’s hand moved toward his face but stopped short when she saw him tense. "Why can’t you see it?"

"Because it’s not true." Gabriel kept his voice gentle despite the unease crawling up his spine. "I’m not divine. I’m not chosen. I’m just someone who’s been hurt and changed and is trying to survive."

Mera stared at him for a long moment. Then her expression closed off, shutting down like a door slamming.

"You’re not ready to understand yet," she said quietly. "But you will be. The Maker’s plan will reveal itself when the time is right."

She turned and walked away, leaving Gabriel alone at the stern.

Tess was right. She’s breaking.

And I have no idea how to fix it.

That night, Gabriel stood on deck long after the others had gone below. The ocean was black glass reflecting stars, the ship cutting through water that glowed faintly with bioluminescence.

Tess found him there, appearing silently at his side.

"Can’t sleep?" she asked.

"Too much on my mind."

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, listening to waves and wind and the creak of rigging.

"I talked to Mera," Gabriel said eventually.

"How’d that go?"

"Badly." Gabriel’s hands tightened on the railing. "She’s convinced I have some divine purpose. That you’re preventing me from fulfilling it."

Tess was quiet for a moment. "She sees what she wants to see. A savior instead of a person."

"I don’t know how to break through that."

"You might not be able to." Tess moved closer until their shoulders touched. "Some people need to believe in something bigger than themselves. You saved her life. For her, that’s enough to build an entire worldview around."

"That’s not healthy."

"No. But it’s human." Tess looked up at the stars. "We all need something to believe in. She chose you. It’s not fair to either of you, but it’s done."

Gabriel turned to face her properly. "What do you believe in?"

Tess smiled slightly. "I believe in sharp swords and solid ground under my feet. I believe people are capable of both extraordinary kindness and horrific cruelty. I believe you’re a good man trying to do right by people who’ve wronged you." Her smile faded. "And I believe I love you, even though you’re not ready to hear it yet."

Gabriel’s chest tightened. Not with panic this time, but with something warmer.

"I’m getting there," he said quietly.

"I know." Tess kissed him, soft and brief. "Take your time. I’m not going anywhere."

The voyage continued.

Gabriel’s fire control improved incrementally. Fifteen seconds became sixteen, then seventeen. Each additional second cost more stamina, drained him faster, but he pushed through.

His ribs healed enough that sparring didn’t leave him gasping. His throat recovered until swallowing no longer hurt.

The group found their rhythm on the ship. Gilbert kept morale up with stories and humour. Adan helped crew with tasks that needed extra hands. Ennu catalogued everything, learning the ship’s patterns.

And Mera withdrew further into herself, emerging less frequently, speaking even less.

Two weeks into the voyage, storm clouds appeared on the horizon.

Torrhen ordered all passengers below deck. "Weather’s turning. You stay out of the way until it passes."

They descended to the cabin and waited while the ship began to pitch and roll with growing violence. Rain hammered the deck above. Wind howled through rigging. The ocean that had seemed vast and calm revealed its true nature.

Gabriel lay in his hammock and listened to the storm rage.

Somewhere above, crew fought to keep the ship running. Somewhere beyond the wooden walls, the ocean was trying to tear them apart.

But down here, in this small cabin, they were safe.

For now.

The storm would pass.

And then they’d have one more week until the Isle of Giants.

One more week until answers.

If we survive that long.