Ascending Shadows

by Everet Martins

  She gave him a bright, chest warming smile and a small nod. “Well enough,” she said weakly before stumbling away from him, her espresso skin gone a sickly gray.

  “Wait.” His voice cut harder than he wanted. “Are you sure you’re well? Because you don’t look or seem well.”

  “Sorry, Isa, I have to go.” She waved, and he grunted in frustration. He stormed off, snorting air, annoyed at himself for caring about her. This was what caring got you.

  She was cutting him off, he realized, as the world was so apt to do to men like him. She knew of his time in the whorehouse from the meeting with the Arch Wizard, likely couldn’t stand the sight of him. Getting what you deserve. He made his way back to the end of the deck, the spot where he could be left alone.

  The bright sun wheeled overhead, and Isa watched the endless sea. It was a marvel the navigator could ever discern where they were headed. He gazed out at the water, which made him feel dizzy with its vastness. He paced a bit, meditated and napped. The sea shimmered with gold, then pinks and reds. White topped waves rolled over in the shifting colors, the sky above a yawning wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Marian was dead, and he’d been the one to kill him, the thought pounded at his head. Was there a place in the Shadow Realm for men who put children to their deaths? There were hundreds, maybe thousands who had fallen by his hand, each scarred and written on his memory. Some Death Spawn, others likely innocent men, too many children, a few guilty. Isa was proficient in few things but killing. Hours passed.

  He grabbed the bow he’d retrieved from his quarters earlier, the quiver full and bristling with arrows. His legs dangled over the edge of the Warwick, and he sipped on a bottle of whiskey in the other hand, pilfered from the store room. He grimaced as the spirits slid down his throat, burning into his gut. He put the bottle down and glanced at the lifeless gulls bobbing in the water, all skewered by a single arrow. A trail of them followed the Warwick, but on they came. They were mindless creatures, their calls grating.

  “Dirty shit birds,” he muttered. “Scavengers, no better than Death Spawn scum.” He raised his bow and notched an arrow, taking aim at a whirling, screaming gull. “Shut up with your fucking calling!” he yelled and felt himself laughing at the absurdity of his actions. He loosed, and his arrow plunged into its belly, sending it falling from the sky and splashing into the water like a stone.

  He thought he should’ve felt some satisfaction at another kill, but he felt nothing. He glanced at his quiver; two arrows left. He’d loosed forty-two arrows today and hadn’t brought more. He supposed he’d have to make arrows if he needed to hunt. He took another swig from the shimmering flask, reflecting the last of the day’s light. Deep lines were cast around his squinting eyes. He felt old then, knew his way of life had prematurely aged him. “Some life.” He scowled at the last edge of the sun.

  When we get back to the Tower, I’m asking for an easier job. Tired of this life. Shuffle parchment ‘til a dagger cuts my throat. He realized then that there was a high likelihood that he’d never see the Tower again. This might have very well been a suicide mission. If the Shadow princess really was in Tigeria, they’d have no choice but to confront her. Their chances of besting her, a near god, without the strength of the Dragon or the Phoenix to aid them were slim at best. Perhaps that was why he didn’t ask about how they’d get home, and the Arch Wizard never offered.

  All the Arch Wizard had to offer he and Senka were more opportunities for a savage ending. This was what they were built for though, he reckoned. It was a warrior’s life, after all. He took another draught of whiskey. He wondered if he finished the bottle would it purge his mind and make it a clean, worry-free slate. He let out a grim snicker.

  A black spot appeared over the edge of the sun and just as soon as it appeared, it was gone. He blinked his eyes a few times, forced them wide open and gently put the bottle down. His mind was clouded, but he was a long way from drunk. What was that? he wondered. Whale? Dolphins? The spot was too large, too distant to be either. He watched the sun die on the horizon, afraid to blink in case he missed the spot again. He thought maybe it was a ship, passing over the edge of the world to a place beyond the limits of his eyes. He needed to get some rest, too much time staring out at the water. Staring out too long made your mind play games. Yesterday, he thought he saw land, even alerted Derwood, only to discover moments later, it was the sun’s reflection on a current.

  When night fell, and the stars emerged, he decided to join the other crew in the mess hall, following the sounds of clinking glasses and pleasant conversation. This was where he needed to be, not sulking on the deck waiting for Senka to emerge from her cave. He’d already wasted more emotion on her than he should have allowed himself. He was a fool to think she remembered him, what they might have had once. Everything faded away.

  Light filtered around the edges of the door, and he pushed through. Smoke and warmth flitted over his skin, dashing away the cold. Cheers welcomed him to join Captain Derwood and the crew, huddled around a small table. The table had at least six empty bottles on it, corks, spilled booze, nuts, and a few dice were spread about the thick wood top. A few soot covered lanterns hung from the low ceiling, gently swaying and creaking with the roll of the ship. A few windows were showing the blanketing stars above. Deep shelves ran around the walls, stuffed with sacks of grain, herbs, dried fruits, and alcohol. There were far more bottles of wine and spirits than food; sailors did have priorities after all.

  “Isa! What brings you to the dungeons? Come, come have a drink!” Derwood gestured with a hand clutching a burning tobacco stick. A clump of ashes fluttered over his arm.

  “Might as well. Can’t hurt to have ‘nother.” He accepted the glass Derwood handed him and threw it back, fiery alcohol burning in his throat. “Oh! What is that?”

  “Best brandy in all the realms!” a sailor roared, throwing a shot back. He finished it without a wince as if his throat were made of iron.

  “That’s it alright. Let’s play a game, shall we?” Derwood asked with an eager grin. “Ever play sailor’s dice?”

  “No, might have to explain the rules to me, but sure. Why not? Wait… thought you didn’t smoke. Not good for your countenance.” Isa felt himself finally smiling, laughing even as he met Derwood’s eyes.

  Derwood grinned at him and chuckled “You’re too serious, man! I’ve seen you out on top, brooding like you’re apt to throw yourself overboard at any minute. Glad to see you’ve finally decided to join us though. Just need to get your better half down here.”

  “My better half?” He would’ve spat if there were liquid in his mouth. “Senka?”

  “No?” Derwood said, incredulous.

  Laughter erupted over the group. He eyed the four other sailors. Two were dark skinned and lean, one stout and olive skinned, another bald and bright red from sunburn. Isa was thankful then that the sun didn’t burn his skin, an ability passed on from surviving the Test of Stones.

  A pale figure leaned forward and into the lantern light, a person he’d missed, his red eye gleaming like a ruby. “Isa, never thought you’d join us,” Juzo said with a friendly bob of his eyebrow. “Cozy down here, isn’t it?”

  “Juzo, didn’t think you drank,” Isa said, noted that his words were starting to come out slurred. Juzo’s features swam in and out of focus. Maybe he should slow down, he thought distantly.

  “I drink. Not spirits though, but like the company anyway.” Juzo leaned back in his chair, back out of the lantern’s glow and into the shadows. Back where he belongs, Isa thought. He wondered how much blood he’d had in Zoria, wondered if he was considering which of these men would sate his eventual hunger. He almost voiced the thought but caught himself in time. This was why he rarely drank, he reminded himself.

  His glass was refilled by trembling hands, clear liquid spilling over the stained table. He thought to ask what it was, but grinned and threw it back anyway.

  “Isa? You hearing me, mate?” Derwood was staring at him
. How long had he been staring? “You’ve gone and pickled your brain, I think.” Derwood cackled, and the sailors joined him. Juzo’s eye glowed in the dim, staring at him, a malevolent hovering orb. That fiery eye blinked as if time came to a crawl.

  The Warwick violently lurched, threw a sailor on top of Isa’s lap as glasses soared and oats sprayed across the table. Alcohol burned in his eyes and shouts filled the mess hall. Glass shattered, and something made of wood toppled over. A few bottles plunked down onto a sailor’s head, who began screaming curses. Emptied bottles rolled across the floor, crashing into the wall, one hitting a window with a crack.

  “Just a rogue wave! A rogue wave! Calm yourselves, you fucking cowards!” Derwood shouted over them, his arms pressing into the ceiling for support.

  “The fuck! We fucking hit something?” a sailor yelled, one hand clinging to the shelf.

  “Who’s manning the fucking ship?” another cried.

  “Kody’s got it,” the olive-skinned sailor barked. “Maybe drinking on the job.”

  The man in Isa’s lap muttered something incomprehensible and started to rise up. He met Isa’s eyes with wide-eyed surprise and raised fingers to his pursed lips.

  “What?” Isa said dumbly.

  The sailor’s mouth exploded open, showering out with red vomit. Isa turned his head in time, vomit slapping against his chest, neck, cheek and everywhere. “Fucker!” Isa yelled, might have even punched him had he the chance. The man gagged, wiped his mouth, and the boat rolled back, sending the sailor tumbling from his lap onto someone else’s. The stench of sour vomit filled the cabin, choking and urging Isa to puke too.

  “Damn it! Shut your bloody mouth!” A dark-skinned sailor screamed at the sunburned man, who was puking again.

  “Let’s see what this is all about.” Derwood hopped over a toppled chair, making for the half-opened door.

  The lanterns swung in great arcs, throwing light over the room. Isa rubbed the burning from his eyes and vomit from his neck as the room swam with debris over the table and on the floor. A few dark arms clung to the shelves and nailed benches. Derwood stumbled through the door and out onto the deck, Juzo and the sailors trailing after him.

  Isa followed, and the boat was jerked sideways again, Isa grabbing onto a banister to avoid being thrown overboard. Just a spot on the horizon. Just a whale, maybe dolphins. Idiot! He scolded himself. The moon was bright over the deck, casting it in an amber glow.

  “What is it?” Juzo yelled, a note of panic in his voice. Isa scrambled over to where he stood near the aftcastle, one arm looped around a mast and the other pointing out. “Some kind of creature!”

  Isa felt his stomach try to drop into his quivering knees. At least ten tentacles as broad as men clung to the side of the boat, dragging it down into the black waters. More gray tentacles rose up, slapping against the boat and jerking it farther into the depths.

  “Spears! Kraken! Get the spears!” Derwood screamed. “Kraken!” He had one arm draped around the aft mast, throwing wild gestures with his other arm. Isa turned and saw sailors scrambling over the deck and into a storeroom. “Move, you bastards! Move!” They came out with armloads of dark iron and started distributing them.

  “Kraken!” Juzo hissed. “No such thing! Shit! This can’t be happening. I hate ships!”

  “Just in the stories,” Isa muttered in disbelief. He had to get his brain working, body moving. “Where are the spears?” he shouted at Derwood. Derwood angrily jabbed with his finger, and a man slammed the broad side of a couple spears into his arms. “Do what you do, killer!” the sailor said, nimbly scampering off to give some to Juzo and to Derwood.

  “Not a Kraken! Just an octopus!” a sailor screamed. “We’ll eat well tonight, eh boys?” He was optimistic given the ship seemed partially sunk to Isa.

  “Nah, just a squid!” a sailor yelled, hurling his spear and thudding into a tentacle. Dark blood gushed from the wound, the spear standing out like a toothpick against all that flesh.

  Isa’s fingers slipped, then got his grip firm on the wet banister. He pinned one spear under his heel, and the other hefted to feel its balance, adjusted it in his grip. He raised it behind his head and the ship jolted. He cursed as the spear tumbled from his hand and into the abyssal waters.

  Wood shrieked and cracked. A tentacle tore free with a great section of the boat’s walls attached to the end, slapping back into the water. A surge of water rushed into the torn hull, gurgling and splashing into the rooms below. The Warwick was dragged farther down, at least a third of its side submerged. Chaotic screams filled the air, any sense of optimism and adventure dashed apart.

  The head of the squid, octopus, Kraken, whatever it was emerged from the water. It stared at Isa with its big yellow eye shining in the moonlight, its black pupil sweeping over the crew. Isa growled, hurled his second spear, plunging deep into the Kraken’s head. The Kraken’s eye closed tight, and more spears came, some hissing around it, a few striking true, piercing its oval shaped head. Tentacles released from the edge of the Warwick, not pierced or taking wood with them. It was working.

  “Get the damned tentacles off the fucking boat, you idiots! The tentacles!” Derwood was screaming. “The tentacles!”

  “Isa!” Senka grabbed onto the banister, soaked through, and vaulted over it, joining his side. “What’s happening?”

  “Some kind of sea creature!” He pointed.

  “Sea…” She trailed off, staring with her jaw hanging open.

  “Spears!” A sailor with another armload of them came over and handed them both two more. “Get the tentacles off!”

  “How?” Isa asked.

  Juzo was at the front of the boat, throwing spear after spear, sending them thudding into its big white head.

  “Just kill it!” The sailor shot over his shoulder, slamming a pair into the arms of another man.

  “Fuck,” Isa barked and watched as his spear thudded into the flesh below its eye. Most of the tentacles had released from the ship, whipped in the air, and slapped against the water. A pair were still latched onto the sides but were slowly peeling off.

  “Is it dying?” Senka asked, breathless.

  “Maybe got its brain, maybe realizing we’re not easy prey?” Isa said, unsure.

  The boat started righting itself, and the Kraken’s head drifted from its edge. “Yeah, run, you bastard! Go back to the depths where you belong!” Derwood cheered and leaned out towards the water, spear raised in one arm, the other hanging onto a mast. “Another story for the Warwick, eh boys! Hah! Can’t beat Captain Derwood, you bastard!” He hurled his spear and it sunk deep into the top of its head.

  Isa’s eyes widened at the bizarre shape forming in the water not more than fifty yards away. There was a great dark hump emerging from the water, covered with smaller bumps shaped like fins. “Shaped like fins,” he muttered. The Kraken saw it too, its massive eye swiveled at the shape as it started to descend.

  “Senka!” Isa pointed, his mouth dry as cotton. “By the Dragon. Derwood! By the Dragon, what is that?”

  “No,” Derwood mouthed.

  “Sea Croc! Sea Croc!” a sailor shouted, his voice cracking as he dragged his spear around a mast and grabbed it with both hands.

  “Brace yourselves! Impact!” Derwood screamed, dropping low and grabbing onto latticed grate.

  “Sea Croc?” Senka whimpered and wrapped herself around Isa’s torso. “What do we do? Sorry!” She released him and snared both her arms around the rail.

  The growing hump became a rolling mountain, looming over the tallest mast of the ship by at least two stories. A white tipped wave crashed over the ship, blasting them with icy sheets and pushing it away from the Sea Croc. The water rolled off Isa, and he cleared the stinging salt from his eyes.

  Senka gasped. A giant mouth rose out of the sea, yawning over where gray nubs of the Kraken’s tentacles poked out of the water. Its head was almost as big as a two-story building. The beast’s head had thousands of spines that l
ooked sharp as swords, within them a forest of thriving seaweed and barnacles. It crashed down on the Kraken, tentacles vanishing from sight as if never there at all. Another wave roared over the boat, thankfully creating more space between the Warwick and the impossible creature.

  “Hah! Saved by a Sea Croc!” Derwood screamed with laughter. “Amazing!”

  The Sea Croc’s back plunged into the depths, its giant tail coming up and broad as a street in New Breden. Its tail had a leathery fin rising up with long bones between it. Its flesh had giant scales as large as a buckler and looking just as thick, some chipped. Its tail went up and up, a rising tower, spraying water like black jewels into the air. It whipped and turned mid-air, aimed down at the ship. It seemed to hang in the air, crystallized in time.

  “Shit,” Isa hissed. “Shit!”

  Sailor’s screamed and dropped spears. “Abandon ship!”

  “The Warwick does not sink! Do not run!” Derwood roared at the tail, coming down slow as mud, but on it came.

  “Run!” Senka threw herself over the rail and darted for the other side of the boat.

  Isa was frozen, staring up at all that gray flesh floating on the air. Was this real? Maybe he was just drunk, passed out and in the grips of a nightmare. Its tail fins bristled and pressed themselves flat against its flesh. It was protecting itself from impact, he thought distantly.

  “Isa!” Senka screamed in his ear, dragging him with more strength than he thought she possessed. Panic lanced his chest, heart roaring in his throat. He followed her lead for the other side of the ship, she stopped at the rail staring at the water. “I can’t…” She looked at him with tears in her eyes, lips turned down.

  “You will.” He reached down her back and grabbed her belt, dragged her into the air and over the edge, legs kicking. “Hold your breath, paddle your legs and hands,” he said into her ear.

  “Isa! What are you doing? No! I can’t swim!” Her hands reached for the rail but grasped only air.

  He released her, unceremoniously dumping her over the side. Her arms flailed like she was trying to fly, slapping against the water on her side.