by Aaron Galvin
Marrero quickly stepped to the left and joined Kellen, bumping shoulders in the process.
Kellen sighed, grateful he and Marrero wouldn’t be split up, or at least for the moment. He listened as Tieran continued down the line, ordering Bryant to the pits, and Edmund too, if only due to his already wearing a Selkie suit.
Still, Kellen felt relieved to see both marshals join them on the left. The sorting ended sooner than Kellen anticipated. He found himself watching the line on the right continue their march southward down the boardwalk.
Tieran gave him little time to wonder where the others ended up. “Right, lads, this way!”
Kellen traipsed after him with the remaining handful of men and teens sorted with him. They followed Tieran westward and approached a narrow geode tunnel of purple crystals.
Whoa, Kellen thought as he followed the line through. For a moment, he forgot his predicament, lost in the sparkling shine the crystals emoted when reflecting the hooded guardians’ torchlights. Nearby, a bowl-like shelf, fashioned by a combination of time and constant drips, provided a steady trickle.
Tieran stopped to dip his fingers in the bowl, then touched them to his forehead and ran his fingers down his face. Each of the guardians did the same. So too did Edmund, the lone captive to partake in the ritual.
The end of the tunnel opened into an area large enough to accommodate half the Tiber High School swimming pool. A row of rusted and barnacle encrusted cages lined one wall. Five hooded men with lean, starved frames occupied them. All stepped to the edge of their cages. Their hollow faces neither surprised, or glad, to see Kellen and the newest arrivals.
At the center, the cavern floor ended suddenly into another pool of equal size to the Gasping Hole. Its water held the same blackish veneer.
A wooden door creaked and swung closed as torchbearers shut the captives inside.
“Now,” said Tieran as he walked to the far wall. “Time to see what you lot are made of. In the testing pool with you.” Tieran cracked his whip.
Kellen warily stepped forward as torchbearers ushered he and the others onward.
“Did you not hear what I said?” Tieran yelled at his crew, then pointed at Marrero. “Get that one outta line! He belongs to Henry!”
“Kell!” Marrero cried as hooded men pulled him away from the group. “Where are you taking me?”
Kellen stepped after him, and was quickly stopped by Edmund.
“He’ll be fine,” the old marshal growled. “And so will you.”
Kellen hung back, watching as Tieran’s crew locked Marrero in a cage.
Tieran was clapping at the remaining hostages. “Get in, I said. We’ve not got all night, do we?”
“Boss Tieran,” said a torchbearer. “You want us to pull the old Selkie out of line too?”
Tieran approached Edmund, lifted his chin to inspect him better. “Nah. Maybe he did earn his suit, once. Don’t mean he gets to keep it now. Let’s see if this runner still has fight in him. Toss him in with the rest.”
Edmund didn’t wait to dive in. Bryant followed suit.
Kellen jumped in after them, feet first, desiring to learn the depth of the frigid pool. His feet grazed a needle-like, rocky bottom of razor-sharp stone. Opening his eyes, he gazed up at the glow of torchlights above the surface. He estimated the pool no more than twelve feet deep.
A crossing shadow broke his vision, startling him, and vanished.
With a hard breaststroke, Kellen ascended. He surfaced near Bryant and the beefy man. Where Edmund swam, he didn’t know. Other men bobbed around him, a few desperately trying to reach the edges and climb out.
Hooded men stepped on the hands of anyone trying to escape the pool. One of them motioned toward Bryant below them. “I’ll lay five doubloons on him. The rest of this lot are rotten.”
“Nah,” said another. “The old runner is who I’ll take. Wherever he disappeared down to.”
A third hooded man laughed. “That geezer? Nah. The big man’s who I want. What about you, Tieran? Who’s your pick?”
Tieran’s gaze fall on Kellen. “That one. Special boy.” He grinned at his crew. “Picked him from the start, I did. Ol’ Tieran knows a fighter when he sees it.”
“Aye, he looks a strong one, he does. But can he swim?”
“Time to find out.” Tieran stepped to the edge of the pool. “Right, listen up you lot. Let ol’ Tieran school you on the difference between dogs and rats. Dogs got fight in ‘em, loyal beasts and easy to train. Rats though . . . well, we drown rats here. Don’t we, boys?” He asked to their immediate acclaim. Tieran looked back to those in the pool, his laughing gaze sweeping over all beneath him. “Right then, time to learn which of you’s is which. Now, this is a simple pool, with simple rules. All you lot gotta do is swim to the other side and make it back.”
That’s it? Kellen nearly laughed as he looked on the length of the pool. It’s like a hundred meter swim . . .
“Oi,” Tieran called to all the hostages in the pool. “What you waiting for? Get swimming now.”
Kellen ducked under the water, placed his feet against the wall, then kicked off the side. He remained underwater as long as he could, cupping his hands and pulling himself forward. He surfaced near the middle of the pool and swam freestyle, hand over hand, losing himself to his competitive nature. Leaning his head to the side for a quick breath, he saw no other swimmer close. There were cheers and applause coming from Tieran’s crew above and, for a moment, Kellen almost believed he was back in his high school’s pool. Placing his face again in the water, he opened his eyes but saw only blackness.
How am I supposed to know when to flip turn?
A few strokes later, his hand slapped the rocky siding, slicing his palm.
Kellen winced and halted. His torso drifted under him as he treaded water to stay afloat.
Tieran yelled from the far side of the pool. “What you stopping for, seadog? Move on. I got good monies on you! Swim!”
Kellen glanced back the way he’d swam and gasped.
Bryant had barely passed the halfway mark. His eyes wide, but determined, he side-stroked onward, always keeping his focus on what lay behind him.
Kellen saw why.
The waters at the far end churned frothy. Few of the others tossed into the pool with him had even made it a quarter of the way. Most struggled to hold onto the tiniest outcroppings along the stony wall. Blood streaked down their arms, their faces round with terror as water splashed white around them.
What the . . . Kellen blinked water from his eyes trying to better understand what caused the water to churn with frantic movement. He could make no sense of it until he heard Marrero calling out to him in warning.
“Kell, swim! Hurry!”
Looking to his friend, Kellen noticed the cages beside Marrero now stood empty, their doors unlocked and open. They let those prisoners out . . .
Kellen refocused on the pool in front of him, remembering Tieran’s order that he must swim not just down, but back as well.
At the far end, another man in the water screamed as he tried in vain to climb the wall. A black backed seal leapt from the water and knocked the man back into the water. The hooded guards above jeered at the man as he resurfaced, coughing and waving before the seal dragged him below the surface.
Tieran was yelling at Kellen throughout. “What you waiting for, special boy? Make it back here and I’ll get you a coat, lad!”
A coat? Kellen thought back on Edmund’s words. You have to fight. Have to earn—
Something wet and rubbery brushed Kellen’s thigh.
He yelped as a seal poked its head above the surface and hissed at him.
Kellen punched the animal, more reacting than thinking. He threw his face back into the water and pushed off the side, scissor-kicking as fast as he could.
A vice clamped round his ankle, attempting to tug him below.
Kellen moaned and fought to lift his head above the surface for air.
The vice re
fused to let go, yanking him below.
Biting me. Kellen realized, gagging on salt water. A seal is biting me.
Again, Kellen kicked. This time, he connected, the ball of his foot striking what felt like a smooth, wet stone. When the vice relented, Kellen fought to surface. He had reached the middle of the pool. Saw chaos continuing in the waters ahead. What do I do?
A shadow leapt over him, splashing back into the water right in front of his face.
“Kid!”
Kellen glanced back the way he’d came and saw Bryant clinging to the far edge, halfway through the swimming gauntlet Tieran had set for them.
“It’s Ed, kid,” said Bryant. “The sea lion! Follow him!”
Edmund . . . Kellen thought back to the deck of the ship and the old marshal’s shapeshifting with Boone’s help.
The seal that had bit Kellen’s ankle surfaced beside him. Its jaws snapped at Kellen.
This one’s not Edmund! Kellen thought, fishing himself backward to escape the seal. He was saved from another attack when a Sea Lion porpoised beside him and lunged at the other animal, both snarling as they took their fight below the surface. Edmund! Kellen thought as they disappeared under. He’s clearing the way for me!
Again, Kellen swam forward, coaxing all the speed he could muster out of his limbs. Taking a breath, he saw the beefy man’s face red, his bare arms squeezing a seal in a chokehold.
Kellen dipped below the water to avoid being seen by the seals focusing their attacks on the hostages swimming at the surface. Shut it out. He told himself of the surrounding noise and panic. Focus. They don’t matter. No one else matters.
Kellen swam until he needed another breath. Surfacing, he glimpsed a man clawing to maintain his grip on the cavern wall as a seal leveraged its weight to drown him.
Tieran was calling again, running along the wall now and pointing to the end. “That’s right, special boy!” He yelled. “Come on, lad. Keep swimming! Win ol’ Tieran his monies!”
“No,” yelled another hooded man. “Stop him, seadogs!”
Kellen lifted his head to gauge the distance – the starting point not ten feet away. I’m going to make it!
A seal reared its head and hissed at him.
Kellen instinctively kicked forward, hugging his arms around the seal’s neck and alligator rolling to the top. He lifted his head out of the water to catch his breath, then kicked free of the animal and swam for the wall, slapping the rocky side hard the moment he reached it.
A sharp whistle pierced the air, Tieran crowing to his crew of hooded men. “The winner by a long shot! Time to pay up, gents! Oi. And get the rest of ‘em outta the water.”
The seals who fought the captives in the water ceased their battles and leapt one after the other onto the deck. The Sea Lion that was Edmund jumped up last.
Treading water, Kellen watched as a Selkie man in Tieran’s crew reached for the Sea Lion’s mouth and took hold of its upper lip, then tugged back toward the skull. The Sea Lion head peeled away. The body morphed and its skin transformed to clothing. Edmund stood on his human legs a moment later. He glanced at Kellen and nodded.
Yeah. Kellen thought, returning the nod. I’m still here, old man.
Another seal looking for release moved toward the hooded guardian.
“No!” said Tieran. “They don’t get freed tonight, nor eat neither. Not after that worthless show. Back in the cages with you lot.” He cracked his whip at the seals. “Call yourselves seadogs, do you? Can’t even lick a new crop a slaves. How’re you supposed to compete in New Pearlaya, eh?”
Kellen watched the seals slop their way back to the cages. He turned his attention on his fellow human competitors in the pool next. Aside from Bryant treading water at the far end, the others clung to the rocky side as best they could. A few were crying. All were shivering.
Tieran shook his head in disgust as he looked down on them. “Drag these sorry rats outta my sight,” he said to his crew of Selkies. “Get ‘em down to the block and ready for auction. Not wasting a coat on these.”
“You don’t want any of them, Boss Tieran?” a hooded man asked.
“Keep that one on the far end.” Tieran pointed at Bryant, then to the beefy man. “And that fat lot Henry gave me too. Might be a worthless swimmer, but at least he’s big. Keep the old Selkie too. Already got a coat, so he don’t cost us nothing.”
“And the winner?” the hooded man asked. “What about him?”
Kellen’s adrenaline quickened when Tieran strode over toward him, a gleam in the taskmaster’s greedy eyes.
Tieran knelt and extended an open hand toward Kellen. “Aye, can’t forget about my champion, now can I?”
Kellen clasped hold of Tieran’s hand and was pulled up and out of the pool. His muscles trembling from the cold and the fight, he collapsed onto the stony floor.
Tieran clapped Kellen on the shoulder. “Good show, that. You done well for yourself in there, special boy.” He slapped Kellen’s cheeks affectionately. “And you’ll do it again too, won’t you?”
Kellen nodded.
“Good boy.” Tieran pet Kellen’s wet hair. Whistled at his companions. “Need to find this one a proper coat. He’s earned it.”
4
GARRETT
Garrett looked on the Collins mansion with equal parts dread and fascination. The stonework intricacies alone boggled his mind. Lit torches cast their flickering lights against black-stained Crayfish emblems, carved near every window and doorframe, as if daring any who entered to forget who owned the mansion. At a wave from August, the hooded guards who accompanied them from the dock rushed to open the great wooden doors, the weight of them calling a creaking echo.
The master of Crayfish Cavern clapped Garrett on the shoulder. “Come along, boys. I have a hunger for wines, cheeses, and the great tales of my son’s first hunt ashore.”
Garrett didn’t pretend to care about the hunting portion, but the thought of food wrestled a groan from his belly.
When August opened his hand invitingly toward the mansion, Garrett ventured in. Lush rugs of soft sea grass extended down the open hall. He hesitated to walk on them until Oscar burst ahead without so much as bothering to wipe his feet. Candelabras, with arms shaped liked octopus tentacles to hold the tallow candles, lined the long hall. Above, stone arches with draperies of deep crimson hung from rafter to rafter, almost like parachutes. Garrett stopped to look up at them.
“Like those, do you?” August asked. “A salvaging crew of mine discovered them in an old trading shipwreck. I scarce thought they’d dry out so easily, but . . .” He shrugged gaily. “Good as new and priceless to boot.” He turned to one of his attendants. “What are they again?”
“Chinese, second century, sir. Of the Han dynasty.”
August nodded. “Ah, yes, yes, of course. You’ll have to forgive me, Garrett. When one acquires so many ancient relics, he can hardly be expected to recall all the dates and facts.”
Indeed, every nook and cranny of the mansion seemed a museum, to Garrett’s mind. Stacked paintings with golden frames leaned against walls. Decorative ewers of varied shapes, sizes, and colors that he dared not go near. High-backed chairs of polished wood engraved with sigils Garrett had never seen before.
Walking down the long hall, Garrett caught glimpses of every room, each more extravagant than the last. One room had nothing but pirate flags and weapons adorning the walls—daggers and dirks, swords, axes, and scimitars. The next room held guns and long rifles, pistols, and even a corner with stacked cannonballs.
“As you can tell, I’m quite the collector,” said August. “I’ve always been fascinated by treasure. Even as a pup, I was always finding things to keep. Ah, here we are.”
Garrett followed August into a large dining area where Oscar slurped steaming soup at one end of a table of polished black wood. “An old sailing mast I had split down the middle and sanded down,” August added helpfully. At least twenty high-backed chairs lined the rectangular table, e
ach bearing the Crayfish emblem, claws pointed up and open, as their head centerpiece.
Older men stoked the massive fireplace. Above its mantle hung the same crest of interlocking Cs that Garrett had seen back at the Boston pier. Lady servants in drab, hooded dresses stood with their heads bowed near the table. What is this place?
“Do look up, Garrett,” said August. “You’re missing the best part.”
Garrett obeyed and gasped at the sight. He had seen geodes before, the largest the size of a basketball. None anywhere close to the scale he looked on now. It’s bigger than the courthouse in town. He thought.
The dome-shaped geode ceiling gleamed deep violet. Light from the torches seemed to send endless waves of color across its crystals.
“Never seen anything like that in all your days, have you?” asked August.
Garrett shook his head. “No, sir.”
August barked a laugh. “I’ll never get over that. Did you all hear him? He called me sir.”
“Aye, m’lord,” the attendants answered as one.
“Me!” August said again, as if they didn’t hear him. He laughed again before ushering him toward the table.
Garrett had scarcely sat down before an attendant appeared with piping hot soup to place before him. It reeked of seafood, but he spooned a mouthful despite himself. Briny and rubbery, he swallowed it down nonetheless, so as to not insult his hosts. Fortunately, more attendants placed rolls and cheeses next. Garrett plunged into them.
“Hungry are you?” August asked. “That’s good. Always like to see young lads eat. Makes you strong. Then one day, you wake up and look like me.”
Garrett chuckled as the whale of a man heaped bread and cheese upon his own plate.
“Wine,” August called and had his cup instantly attended. “Now, Oscar, my boy, regale me with tales of your epic hunt. I would hear more of how you crossed paths with Garrett.”
Garrett listened intently to Oscar relaying his story to August. As Oscar complained about Lenny Dolan and whined of mistreatment, Garrett learned it had been Lenny that first found him and convinced Oscar of his worth.