Merrick’s arm shot out, a steel band around Inessa’s waist, yanking her violently to the floor. The impact knocked the wind from her, scattering the tendrils of hallucinogenic fog that had begun to curl around her peripheral vision. Another crack. This one tore through the wall where their heads had been moments before, spitting plaster dust and splintered wood. The scent of ozone mingled with the acrid tang of gunpowder.
“Stay down,” Merrick’s voice was a low growl, tight with an urgency that pierced through her daze. He was already moving, dragging her behind an overturned, sun-faded chaise lounge. The Salted Fig Inn, which had always felt frozen in time, now shuddered violently under the assault. More shots followed, methodically tearing through the walls and ceiling. These weren’t warning shots; they were meant to destroy.
From outside, a guttural yell. “Light it up!”
Within seconds, the scent of gasoline was thick, overpowering the sea salt. A flicker of orange danced at the edges of the shattered window, expanding with monstrous speed. The old wood of the inn, dry as kindling, ignited with an enthusiastic roar. Heat licked at them, an immediate, suffocating blast. Smoke began to pour in, stinging Inessa’s eyes.
“The tunnels,” Merrick rasped, pulling her up. “Beneath the pantry. Follow me, and don’t stop.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, already sprinting towards the back of the house, his lean frame a blur through the growing smoke. Inessa, adrenaline overriding exhaustion, scrambled after him, coughing. The air was thick, heavy, tasting of ash and impending doom. The antique clocks, silent for so long, now seemed to tick with the sound of snapping timbers. Flames already devoured the grand staircase, turning the centuries-old banister into a torch.
They burst into the pantry, a narrow, shadowed space smelling faintly of dried herbs and dust. Merrick hauled back a worn woven rug, uncovering a rusted iron ring set in the flagstones. With a grunt, he heaved, and a heavy flagstone grated open, exposing a dark, yawning maw. A blast of cool, damp air, smelling of earth and brine, offered a brief respite from the inferno above.
“Go,” he commanded, pushing her towards the opening. “It leads to a cove just north of the inn. Tavi will be waiting.”
Inessa hesitated, glancing back at the roaring inferno that was once the Salted Fig. “You’re coming, right?”
His eyes, dark and resolute, met hers. “I’ll be right behind you. Just run.” He gave her another shove, a silent promise in his gaze that she desperately wanted to believe.
She plunged into the darkness, the rough-hewn steps slippery under her feet. The tunnel wound downwards, claustrophobic and ancient, lit only by the faint, flickering glow from the burning inn entrance. She could hear the shouts of men above, the crackle of fire, and the occasional *thud* that shook the very earth around her. Panic, cold and sharp, threatened to grip her, but she pushed it down, focusing on Merrick’s promise, on the image of his eyes.
She emerged gasping into a small, rocky cove, the air here cleaner, though still tinged with smoke. The ocean, usually a calming presence, now churned ominously. And there, against the backdrop of the blazing inn, was Tavi’s ferry, the *Sea Urchin*, bobbing restlessly. Tavi himself was frantically untying the mooring ropes, his face pale, streaked with soot.
“Inessa! Get on, get on!” he shrieked over the roar of the fire. “They’re everywhere!”
Her gaze swept the cove, and her heart sank. Two sleek, black speedboats, bristling with armed men, were cutting through the water, closing in on the *Sea Urchin*. They were too fast. They would never make it.
“Merrick!” she yelled, turning back towards the tunnel mouth, but a flash of movement on the cliff path above drew her gaze. More men, silhouetted against the flames, were descending. There was no way out for him.
“He’s covering us!” Tavi wailed, finally freeing the last rope. “Get in!”
She clambered aboard, her eyes fixed on the burning inn. “We have to wait for him!”
“No time!” Tavi threw the throttle forward. The wooden ferry lurched, groaning as its old engine sputtered to life. But the skiffs were already too close, their motors snarling like predatory beasts.
Suddenly, Tavi spun the wheel, yanking the ferry hard to port. “Hold on!” he screamed. Instead of heading out to sea, he was turning directly towards the approaching crafts.
Inessa gripped the rail, bewildered. “What are you doing?!”
“Making a distraction!” he yelled back, his usual frantic energy replaced by a fixed, reckless snarl she'd never seen. His eyes, usually wide with gossip, were narrowed, focused solely on the lead skiff. “They want the boat? They can have it!”
The gap closed with sickening speed. The men on the launch, thrown off balance by Tavi’s suicidal maneuver, began to shout, raising their weapons. But it was too late. With a deafening crunch of fiberglass and splintering wood, the ferry slammed into the launch's hull, a violent, desperate ram. The smaller vessel buckled, then capsized with a sickening groan, throwing its occupants into the churning water.
The second launch swerved wildly to avoid the debris, its captain yelling curses. Tavi, his face a mask of triumph and pain, wrestled the mangled vessel free, the ferry now listing heavily, smoke pouring from its engine. He had sacrificed his livelihood, his only means of escaping Pellaris, to buy them precious seconds.
“Go, Inessa! This is it!” Tavi, coughing violently, pointed towards a small, rusty dinghy tethered to the ferry’s stern, barely visible amidst the chaos. “The *Cormorant*! It’s small, quiet. Get to the rendezvous coordinates on the GPS. Merrick… he said he’d meet you there.”
Before she could protest, Merrick’s hand, grimed with soot, appeared from the tunnel entrance. He was breathing heavily, a deep gash bleeding on his forehead, but his eyes were clear, decisive. He didn’t say a word. He just seized her, shoved her roughly into the dinghy, and with startling, frantic strength, untied the rope, pushing the small craft away from the crippled ferry.
“Merrick!” she screamed, scrambling to get back to him. “No! What are you doing?”
He ignored her, his gaze locked on the approaching second craft and the men still streaming down the cliff. He pulled a small, wicked-looking pistol from his belt, his shoulders squared. “Just go, Inessa. Don’t look back.”
The current seized the *Cormorant*, pulling it away. Tavi, wounded and battered, gave her a tearful, desperate wave from the deck of his sinking ferry. Inessa fought against the current, against the growing distance, her hands raw from trying to paddle back. But Merrick only pushed the dinghy further, his back to her, a silhouette against the inferno.
The inn roared, a hungry beast devouring itself. The roof, weakened by the relentless flames, began to sag, timbers groaning under the strain. Inessa watched, helpless, as the central beam gave way, sending a shower of sparks into the night sky. The entire structure shuddered, then collapsed inwards, a final, earth-shattering roar, burying everything—and everyone—beneath a pyre of fire and smoke.