by Eve Langlais
“I am vastly reassured.”
“You should be. The website I use hasn’t been wrong yet.” He didn’t mention the part about only using it for the past six days. He’d changed after his previous source for esoteric daily messages had led him astray. A sunny day indeed. The rain hadn’t let up the entire battle, and when he slipped in the mud and his face…
Best not remember that.
“Why are you shaking?” He tugged Lana onto his lap just for a moment to help calm her. Might as well since the kraken had taken hold of the plane and was rocking it hard. Holding on to Lana meant keeping her from being tossed around. Cradling her meant he clearly felt the chill in her flesh and noted the pallor of her skin.
“You keep acting all confident and shit, but I don’t see how this is going to end well.” She spoke woodenly as the kraken tested the welds on the plane, making metal and joints groan.
“I have faith you’ll save us, wench.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You have the strength to take on armies.”
“But the water…” she whispered.
“Doesn’t have to be your enemy. Don’t you remember a time when it was your friend?”
“My friend betrayed me.”
“Perhaps it’s time to let it apologize. Or kick its ass. But do something.”
Jory manhandled her until he stood and could set her down in the seat. Moving back into the body of the plane, he found the room he needed. Jory reached for his hidden sheath, withdrawing an eight-foot blade from his hip. Lightweight and made of fire-steel. Which was exactly how the name sounded, a firm length of metal that crackled with fire when used. Even underwater.
Lana appeared suitably impressed. “How did I not notice your sword?” she gasped. “It’s so big.”
“It is.” He winked. Her pink cheeks told him she took it the way he intended.
“How do you hide it?”
“Alter-dimensional sheath.” A term that caused her to blink, so he gave her a rapid explanation as he lifted his blade and measured the distance to the windshield. “Because humans have this thing about a man traveling with it openly, I had one custom-made.”
“It’s invisible.”
He drew back his sword arm. “Not exactly. It is a tiny slit between universes.” He didn’t explain that each of the woven symbols on his belt contained a slit. Each one held a different weapon.
A warrior liked to be prepared. He thought of it as the equivalent of the bajillion gold piece magical armor seen in the Dungeons and Dragons books. Which were ridiculously popular in Valhalla.
Before she could ask another question, he jabbed the sword at the windshield.
She shrieked. “What are you doing?”
“Creating an escape.” Already, the fresh air from outside revived him. Lifting the stench of death and fear, filling him with optimism and an urge to surf.
“There’s a kraken and bottomless water out there.”
“Which is better than the metal coffin we’re stuck in.” He continued to jab, pushing out the glass, creating a hole large enough for them to escape. He turned and held out his hand to Lana in courtesy. Definitely not Viking. Totally out of character.
Did she appreciate it?
She shrieked, “Behind you.”
He turned. Sure enough, a tentacle rose, probably a cousin to the cock-blocking creature that’d killed the plane’s captain. He grumbled, “Would it have killed you to wait a few seconds? I was having a moment with my wench.”
The kraken apparently didn’t know how to help a brother out. The sucker-studded tentacles arrowed for the hole he’d made.
He uttered a fierce yell as he dove out the hole, sword extended. The appendage barely missed getting skewered, jerking away and dangling over the nose of the plane. He eyed it carefully as he got to his feet, the drip of seawater making the nose of the plane slick. He crouched for balance, just in time. The kraken jabbed at him, and he met the rush with a slice of his sword. The tip fell, the edges singed by his blade, the stump spraying ichor into the air, coating him in a slick layer.
Kind of fishy smelling. Not appetizing at all. He was more of a four-legged meat kind of man.
Where there was one tentacle, there was two. A second and a third emerged, while the ones already wrapped around the plane shook it.
A quick glance over his shoulder showed Lana staring with wide eyes. Frozen.
Something twinged in his heart. I don’t like seeing her that scared. What he couldn’t figure out was why he cared?
“Stay inside,” he shouted to Lana. Not that he thought she’d move. Especially once she saw what he did. He took a peek over the side, eyeing the dark morass of the ocean. Refreshing, especially considering he was covered in goo. Somewhere beneath those rolling waves, a kraken hid.
Fun.
No point in staying aboard. He tipped into the raging waters, sword clutched tightly. He hit with almost no splash, his body an arrow that plummeted feet-first.
Being underwater didn’t frighten him. He’d trained with the best. The most varied. He could fight from atop a horse in a sandy desert, or take a long turn underwater, playing with the sea monsters plaguing Atlantis. Not that he’d done that in a while. Nowadays, the Atlanteans relied on a dome, and the remaining monsters usually kept to the truly deep waters so that the humans wouldn’t capture them.
As his watery descent slowed, Jory glanced around. Krakens tended to be rather obvious to spot. Bulbous, giant body. Lots of tentacles.
A few came questing towards him. He didn’t slice at them. No point in clouding the water.
Not seeing anything, he took a moment to kick to the surface. He spotted a nearby limb wrapped around the wing of the plane. Handy. Jory filled his lungs to capacity, then dove under again, following the arm of the kraken. He swam this time, legs doing a flutter kick to propel him deeper. He let the gleaming length of his sword guide him through the shadowy waters. While the surface layer found itself lit by sunshine, the deeper he went, the less those rays penetrated. But he knew where he was going. The tentacle would lead to the beast’s head.
The kraken saw him coming and let out a sound, kind of like Bjorn the last time his wife had caught a barmaid stroking his beard before she dragged him out of the pub by the ear. Jory kicked harder towards the sea monster, aiming for the single giant eye.
Tentacles sluiced through the water at him. The water slowed his movements, his swing didn’t have the same speed or force as on land, but his sword never lost its sharp edge. Or its flames.
The water sizzled as the blade cleaved through the limb. The kraken’s severed arm fell, the ichor dirtying the water, making it harder to see.
He kicked closer. His lungs protested. He really needed some air. Or he could go just a little bit farther.
The decision was made for him. A limb knocked into his body, driving out the last of his air. He kicked hard, hoping he’d chosen the right direction. Putting on a burst of speed as the water lightened above him.
He emerged from the water with a shake of his hair and drew a huge gasp of air. Just in time. A limb wrapped around his legs and pulled him down under again.
The sword hacked at the limb, further muddying the water around him. He wisely drew a breath just as another tentacle grabbed. This one managed to stab a stinger into his skin.
He knew better than to draw a harsh breath underwater. It hurt, though. Hurt, and yet he allowed it, especially since it dragged him under, way under, bringing him to his target. The kraken. More specifically, its open mouth.
Except he wasn’t planning to get eaten.
A vibration hit the water around him. A liquid earthquake that halted his descent.
Then, panic.
The limb holding him flung him away from the main body, hard enough that he broke the surface. As he trod water, he watched the limbs retreating, fleeing in the face of a melancholy hum.
The magic hung in the air, motes of music imbued with power.
&n
bsp; Lana.
A glance around showed him about a hundred yards from the now bobbing plane. The kraken had released its grip, so the plane floated atop the waves, a wounded ship with no mast to guide them. Perched atop, the huddled form of Lana, her knees tucked to her chin, and her arms around them.
A discordant hum emanated from her. Her terror filled the air and trembled the water around him. A glance below his feet showed the water clear. Not a single tentacle to be seen.
Frightened of some music? Odd, because she’d said she couldn’t affect the sea creature.
Jory sheathed his sword and took long strokes with his arms, kicking and pulling through the water. When he reached the plane, his grab of the broken wing caused it to rock, and Lana shrieked.
“I’m coming aboard.”
“You’re going to tip me into the water,” she moaned.
“Hold on tight then so that doesn’t happen.”
He grabbed again and caused it to tilt. She didn’t go flying past, and the ship soon righted itself when he balanced on the nose. He then carefully eased himself onto the roof of the plane, sidling slowly towards Lana.
She whimpered.
“Don’t make that sound.” That sound implied she didn’t trust him.
“I’ll do whatever I like. Gonna die,” she said through chattering teeth.
Her fear of the water really made him wonder about her claim to be a mermaid. Didn’t the mermaids have to live in water?
The mermaids also controlled the kraken last he’d heard. Perhaps she was mistaken. Maybe someone had gotten it wrong, and she was only a siren-human mix. It would make more sense. If he ignored the hair.
He sat down behind her and drew her onto his lap. He held her shivering frame, his usually brave Lana undone by some memory locked in her mind.
Even after her shuddering subsided, he kept her close. She sighed. “This is nice, but you do realize the plane is going to sink, and when it does—”
“Such pessimism.”
“Can you blame me? We were attacked.”
“I was handling it until you chased it away.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I’m hungry.”
“What does that have to do with anything? We are going to drown.”
“I can swim.”
“Maybe you can, but I can’t.”
“You won’t have to swim.”
She turned her head towards him. “How can you say that? You going to paddle this plane to shore somehow?”
Rather than reply, he pointed to some soaring shapes in the air.
“Are those birds?”
“Yes.”
“I highly doubt a seagull can save us,” she snapped.
“These aren’t ordinary birds,” he said with a chuckle.
“Still don’t see how they’re supposed to help. Will they eat our eyeballs so we don’t have to see death coming?”
“Your imagination is truly vivid, but no. Those are giant albatross.”
“Never heard of them.”
“Because they are rare. As far as I know, they are servants for the sirens. I imagine they sent them to rescue us once they realized we were in trouble.”
Speaking of which, the trouble wasn’t finished. The plane rocked.
Had the kraken returned? Jory glanced down and noticed sinuous shapes sliding through the water. Wiggling their tails, long hair shimmering like seaweed behind them.
“Mermaids,” he growled.
“Mermaids.” She breathed the word.
He remained less than impressed. “Stay in the middle of the plane.”
“They won’t hurt me. I’ve been talking to one on the conch and—” The plane began to rock. She clutched at him. “What are they doing?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who’s been chatting with them.” Whereas he’d never learned how to interpret gurgles.
The rocking got more intense as the bodies bumped in rhythm against the plane, one side, then the other, building the pitch each time. He braced himself and urged those flapping shapes to move faster.
The momentum tilted him and Lana almost sideways, and his thighs gripped the back of that plane like a bucking hound of Hell.
Looking down at the water, a few inches below the surface, he saw the moon-like face of a mermaid, her hair streaming behind her, her mouth opening and shutting, her eyes dark and unblinking.
Then the tilt was heading the other way, and he knew this was their last chance. He gathered his legs under him while keeping hold of Lana. When the ship was at its most level point, he tossed her into the air. The giant clawed feet of the albatross grabbed her, and Lana squealed at the jolt and pinch of it. As the plane began to tip over on the other side, he leapt for the second giant bird, grabbing it by the ankles, his weight dragging it down. A third swooping shape snared him by a boot and helped dissipate the weight. Just in time and right before he hit the water. He had a moment to see a hand, the fingers webbed in between, reaching, and then they were off. Flying over the waves, leaving the mermaids behind.
Never a dull moment with Lana.
Never a quiet one either.
“Let me down. Shit. No. Don’t let me down. Why did I ever leave land?” Lana cried.
Whereas Jory? He grinned. They lived. Which means she owes me a kiss.
Chapter 11
The giant bird didn’t drop me in the ocean.
Or shit on my head.
My life didn’t end, drowned in water, or eaten by a kraken.
Nor did the mermaids get their fins on me. Which I assumed was a good thing. It didn’t bode well that they’d shown up after the sea monster did. As for the trying to get me into the water…not cool.
Not cool at all.
The giant birds were kind of awesome once I got over my initial shock. Big, majestic things, their plumage a mix of white, gray, black, and brown. Conan yelled that they were no better than seagulls when one holding him had a wet flatulence moment. I couldn’t blame him for yodeling again when he got dipped into the water and rinsed.
My ride thankfully didn’t bring me anywhere near the water. I don’t know what I would have done if it had. It terrified me. There was so much of it everywhere. And that monster…
A freaking kraken had come after me. I chased it away with my song. But would singing have taken care of the mermaids? Or had they come to finish the job the kraken started?
I preferred to leave rather than find out. Our flight didn’t take long, the nearby island providing succor. The feeling of solid earth under my feet saw me dropping to my knees. I hugged the ground and kissed it. In that moment, I’d have had a baby with it, I was so thankful to be alive.
I survived. Lana one, ocean zero. Boo-ya!
When I rose from my make-out session with the ground, it was to find Conan scowling. “What’s the matter, big boy?”
“You kiss the ground and not the man who saved you.”
“Technically, the birds saved us.”
“I fought a kraken.”
“No one asked you to.” But I totally appreciated it, even as it terrified me. I’d seen him diving after the monster. Seen the clouds of blood dirtying the water.
I’d thought him brave and crazy for going after it, but I wouldn’t tell him that and inflate his head. The man already had a big one. Mentally and physically. I’d felt the size of said nether head earlier. It raised the concern it might not fit.
“You owe me a kiss,” he stated.
“Is that why you’re whining?” The idea to argue did briefly cross my mind, but if I practiced honesty with myself, I wanted a kiss.
I stepped close enough that when I reached up on tiptoe, I could brush my lips against his. A soft, feathery embrace that brought a noise from him.
A louder exclamation when I lowered.
“That was barely a kiss,” he stated.
“You never specified how long it needed to be.”
“I’m pretty sure I said it had to last at
least two minutes.”
“Two, eh?” Before I could think twice, I kissed him again. Heat flared between us. An instant awareness that made me sway into him. When the tip of his tongue traced the seam of my mouth, I parted my lips, let him explore. Then, when his tongue was in my mouth, I bit it lightly and grabbed his ass.
Never forget to grab some ass. Especially when it was nice and firm. He returned the favor, the passion between us burning hotly.
My orgasm earlier hadn’t relieved the pressure of my desire, it had only made it stronger. Need pulsed inside me.
I cupped him. Felt how he throbbed. How he needed. Yet he took his time kissing me. Exploring my mouth. His entire focus on me. And mine on him.
I might have ridden him like a cowgirl when the supper bell was rung except someone cleared their throat, and while usually, someone saying “ahem” makes me keep going whilst showing off a middle finger, this voice felt like someone poking me in the ear with a needle.
I winced and turned from Conan. “Ouch.” As in, was that necessary?
Whereas Conan bellowed and jumped in front of me, sword quickly extended, ready to do battle on my behalf.
A sharp whistle sent him to his knees.
It made me want to jab myself with a sharp stick, but I refrained. Instead, I observed the whistler, a woman staring sternly at me. Not exactly a spring chicken. In her late forties at least, judging by the gray in her hair and the lines bracketing her mouth and eyes. The long gown she wore appeared hand-woven and was a soft brown color, cinched at the waist, ending at her ankles. Her feet were encased in sensible hiking boots, cute ones, their shape slim and tightly fitted with laces up her ankles. She wore gloves on her hands and a shawl around her waist. Had we gone back in time?
Jory groaned as he cupped his head. “Was that really necessary?”
“You’re a tough one.” Said with admiration. “You’ll make good breeding stock,” the woman announced.
I might have taken offense on his behalf except it hit me. “Are you a siren?”
“Are you without manners?” the woman said with a sniff. “One does not simply blurt the obvious.”
“How is it supposed to be obvious?”
“Because you’re on our isle, of course, which begs the question, how did you come to be here?”