by Dan Avera
The tide swept back into the sea, revealing the leg in its entirety; it was strange, like the leg of a crayfish but wider, and with what Will thought was mottled grey skin on its underside that was just barely visible above the sloshing waves. The entire length of the giant, segmented limb rested just above the water's surface now, like a living bridge that led all the way to the creature itself, which continued to float—or perhaps stand, Will thought as he struggled to wrap his mind around the sheer size of the thing—out in the deeper water. Gulls had begun to circle overhead, and their rowdy cries rang through the air as they darted down to snatch those tiny organisms unfortunate enough to still be trapped along the surface of the larger beast's body.
Borbos stepped nimbly up onto the edge of the claw. Its shape had a purpose, Will realized—its surface was wide and flat, perfect for walking on, and it was crusted with barnacles and what Will recognized from Clare's stories as the failed beginnings of coral. Both provided traction for sea-slicked boots. Borbos had no trouble making the short climb to the crest of the leg-bridge, where he turned around and motioned for the rest of the army to follow. “Come along,” he called. “Our time be wearing thin.” He started off across the creature's shell, his boots thumping lightly on its carapace.
The first to follow were his warriors, who Will guessed had already become accustomed to such an experience. The other Titans and their bodyguards trailed after them, and they were accompanied at the end by Feothon's army. Soon, only Will and his Dragon Guard were left standing on the white sand. He licked his lips nervously and walked up to the claw, which swayed gently with the waves. The sunlight shimmered off of its damp surface, and a purple starfish crawled sluggishly around its base. Will shook his head as he was hit once again by the absurdity of what his life had become. Right. First yaru, then I catch on fire, and now I get to climb up on the largest...thing...in the whole of Pallamar. He reached out tentatively and, after a moment's hesitation, placed the palm of his hand lightly on the thing's slick surface.
The reaction was instantaneous: the creature shuddered beneath his touch, making waves in the deeper water around the leg-bridge, and then it trumpeted. The call was much higher than its usual groans, and it was so loud that the gulls overhead screamed in surprise and wheeled away to fly off into the horizon. Will snatched his hand back and stumbled away, his breath catching with fear. Had he hurt it? Perhaps the power inside of him had somehow made it angry. Fire was, after all, water's mortal enemy. Wasn't it?
“I think it likes you,” said a soft voice over his left shoulder, and he turned to see Clare, her gold-flecked eyes either unable or unwilling to meet his own and a look of guilt written across her face. He flicked his gaze away, suddenly nervous, and swallowed. His mouth was quite dry.
“You, ah...you think so?” he asked, his voice catching unintentionally.
“It sounded like it. Maybe...um, maybe you should try touching it again.” Will's thoughts were wholly preoccupied with things other than touching the sea monster at the moment, but he obediently reached out and placed his hand on the thing's shell again. As before, it shuddered beneath his touch, though this time it did not make a sound. And then, in a move that made Will's eyes widen, the claw drew itself out of the sand and reached forward, as though it were leaning into his hand. The very tip of the claw lightly touched his thigh, and he was reminded of a cat rubbing up against his leg. The gesture was so unbelievably gentle that it took his breath away.
A moment later the claw settled back into the ground, drawing a great furrow in the wet sand as it steadied its makeshift bridge. Will grinned despite himself. “Amazing,” he whispered, and then he looked back at Clare and indicated the leg. “Ladies first,” he said. She took a step forward and, for a brief instant, her emerald eyes met his.
“Will, I just wanted you to know...” she trailed off momentarily, faltering, and looked away. “I'm sorry,” she finally finished. “For upsetting you.”
“It's...it's fine,” he answered softly, though the pain that had suddenly welled deep inside of him said otherwise. He caught sight of the rest of his men out of corner of his eye and said, “Let's, ah...let's get on this thing. We need to hurry.” There was so much more he wanted to say, but right then the City in the Waves came first. He looked away from Clare and tried to force his feelings away to someplace deep inside his mind.
She climbed up the creature's leg a moment later, gripping the coral stubs to steady herself, and then she was walking down the length of the living bridge, her dark hair blowing serenely in the coastal wind. Will sighed and moved to follow her.
A sharp pain in the back of his head stopped him, and he whirled around angrily. Hook stood behind him, a glare on his face and his arms folded firmly across his chest. “What?!” Will hissed, rubbing his scalp.
Hook pointed in Clare's direction, and then made a face and gestured with his hands as if to say, “You're just going to let her go like that?”
“I...” Will faltered, and then turned back to the creature with a grumble. “Move out,” he called over his shoulder, and his order was followed by the sound of many feet tramping across the beach. Behind him Hook gave a phlegmy, exasperated sigh.
Will hesitated for only a brief moment before placing his hands once more on the creature's slick carapace—it shuddered again—and then he was climbing, using the rough patches of barnacles and coral for traction on the otherwise treacherously slippery surface. The great beast moved gently beneath him with a rhythm that invoked thoughts of breathing, or perhaps a slow heartbeat, and while Will found the idea of standing on a living creature somewhat disturbing, the constant, swaying motion was oddly calming. He even found himself smiling as he crested the leg's first joint.
From there the leg widened even further, becoming large enough for three or four men to walk abreast, and Will was struck again by the immense size of the thing. Clare was only a short distance away and, after a brief internal debate, he trotted along the slippery makeshift bridge to catch up with her.
“You shouldn't have come,” he said softly, indicating her hand. “I mean...are you going to be alright in a fight?”
For a moment he regretted his words and worried that they might make her angry, but she flexed her fingers and replied, “I'm not sure.” The admission seemed rather ominous, especially when accompanied by the strange hollow thump of their boots on the living bridge. “But I've got these,” she continued, indicating her sword and the armor the Faellan had given her—the strange, bronze-colored plate that was both light and strong. Its leaf-like design, naturally, invoked thoughts of the forest. Will's own set was very similar, if larger, and it had come with a new longsword.
“Go back,” Will blurted. “There's no reason for you to put yourself in danger like this. I mean...you didn't even bring Grim. What if something happens to you?”
“I'm willing to take that risk,” she said, and her words were so soft that they were almost imperceptible. “I promised Serah...” She trailed off, but Will narrowed his eyes, an inkling of her meaning forming in his mind.
“What did you promise her?” he asked. “Clare, if this is about...protecting me or something stupid like that, then—”
“I'm here because I want to be, Will!” she cried, and he stopped, stunned into silence as though slapped. She had never raised her voice to him before, and he found he did not know what to do. She turned away, hiding her face behind the curtain of her hair, and when she spoke again her words were softer. “Spirits above. I told you I'd stay with you to the end, and I intend to make good on that promise. If I die making sure the Dragon King survives, it'll be a good death.”
Her declaration struck him like a physical blow. The Dragon King? he thought. Is that all I am to her? Is Will the Human dead?
They were nearing the end of the sea beast's leg, and Will could see the soft, wet, fleshy tissue where the limb joined the body. The tender region was surrounded by a thick wall of armored shell. And there was something else—t
his close to the thing's body, he could actually hear the deep, rhythmic sound of its breathing. But he pushed all of that from his mind and seized Clare by the arm, his grip gentle but firm, and pulled her to a quick halt. “Maybe I don't want anybody to die for me,” he hissed, aware from the corner of his vision that his men had also stopped a short distance behind them. “Did you ever think about that? Maybe I don't give a damn about your stupid promise to me or to Serah. Void take it, Clare, I don't want anybody else to sacrifice themselves just so I can keep on living—least of all you. Now please, go back to the Dark Forest until we can figure out a way to get you well again.”
She slapped him. Hard. His cheek stung from the blow, but rather than lash back out as he would have done with anyone else, he simply dropped his gaze and let his hand fall from her arm. He heard a collection of gasps and low whistles emanate from his men, but he ignored them.
“If you think that I would leave you at a time like this,” she hissed, the anger in her voice almost tangible, “then you really don't know me at all.” Will did not meet her eyes, and then she was gone, her boots thunking quickly along the armored shell. He stood there numbly until Castor clapped him on the shoulder.
“I will pretend not to have seen that,” the Lord Commander said quietly, and Will gave a short, humorless laugh.
Clare had disappeared amid the crowd of warriors by the time Castor and Will made it over the leg joint and onto the creature's back. “I'll go talk to her,” Katryna said to Will, and she started off into the throng.
“Katryna, wait—don't bother her,” Will said, reaching out to stop her, but she brushed his hand aside.
“Sorry, my king. No dice.” And then she, too, was swallowed by the mob.
Will looked at Castor and shook his head in defeat. Castor simply shrugged. “There's no stopping them once they get something in their heads,” he said.
Will sighed. “That is certainly the truth.”
He once again pushed those complicated thoughts of women from his mind, and instead tried to find Borbos. His roving gaze eventually became completely enraptured with the creature they were standing on, though, and he stared in fascination at the great, mottled-brown segments that stretched off fore and aft impossibly far. Will guessed that the animal—or what he could see of it, at any rate—had to be at least a league in length. It undulated slowly as he traversed its surface, its body creaking and groaning as it moved.
He finally found Borbos standing with Feothon, Leyra, and Serah toward where he assumed the creature's head must be. They were talking amongst themselves in low voices, and when Feothon spotted Will walking toward them he shushed the others, who turned around to look. Will briefly contemplated inquiring about their strange behavior, but decided that it would be a futile exercise; they obviously did not want him to hear what they were saying.
“Will,” Borbos said in greeting. “I, ah...saw you speaking with Clare. Be everything alright?”
Leyra stretched her arms out to the sides, and Will heard several distinct pops as she cracked her spine. One of her fists—seemingly by accident—caught Borbos in the chest, knocking him backward a step. “Oh,” she said, “my apologies.” Will was once again struck by the beauty in her voice, but this paled in comparison to his confusion at the juvenile demeanor she and the other Titans were suddenly displaying. With such a guilty look on his face, Borbos almost looked like a child caught with his fingers in a pie. And the way Leyra glared down at Borbos almost reminded Will of...
He stifled a laugh. They reminded him of siblings—they were acting just like brothers and sisters, and for some reason Will found this oddly humorous.
“I'm not sure,” he said in answer, and then he grinned sheepishly. “I think I made her angry.”
“Men,” Leyra growled. “They never say the right thing. It is a wonder we have not killed them all off by now.”
“Perhaps it's because you'd have a difficult time surviving for very long without us,” Will said with a grin. “I mean, unless you've got...you know...” He indicated Leyra's lower regions vaguely with his hand and waggled his eyebrows, and then almost laughed yet again as he realized that he was behaving exactly as they were. Brothers and sisters, he mused. A family. My family. It felt good to talk to them—natural, as though he had known them all his life. It felt very similar to when he was around Clare.
Leyra hefted her axe menacingly. “Careful, boy. You may be my brother, but I have no qualms about beating some respect into you.”
Will grinned even wider and beckoned to her with his finger. “Catch me if you can, old woman.”
Borbos burst out laughing and doubled over with his hands on his knees. Leyra swatted the back of his head, and the blow was hard enough to make him stumble forward. He laughed even harder and righted himself. “Oh, spirits above,” he gasped. “Will, I think you'll fit in with this rabble just fine.”
Will smiled softly and, after a moment's hesitation, moved up to join their little crowd. He supposed it was the proper thing to do; he was, after all, a Titan on the eve of a battle. His place was with his family. “Borbos, this thing is huge,” he said, indicating the sea creature. “Is...is this the City in the Waves? A living city?”
Borbos barked a short laugh. “No, boy, this be my favorite creation—the Leviathan, the guardian of the seas. He's been around since the beginning of time.” He knelt down and patted the armored shell, and the beast shuddered happily like a puppy with its master. Borbos smiled. “He likes you, you know. That be what that great noise was when you touched him for the first time. He used to love giving Davin rides.”
“The Dragon King has always held a special place in the Leviathan's heart,” Feothon said. “As far back as I can remember, at any rate.”
“We need to go,” Serah said, and her harsh tone jarred the lightened mood. “Your city is under attack, Borbos, no? Or did you forget?”
“Right you are,” the Sea Lord replied, and the gaiety vanished from his face so quickly and completely that it might as well have never existed at all. He knelt and placed his hands on the Leviathan's back. “Take us to the City,” he whispered, and the creature groaned. Standing on top of its body made the sound exponentially louder than before, and Will could feel the almost painful vibrations shuddering up through his feet and into his bones.
The leg still resting on the shore lifted into the air and drew back in toward the Leviathan's body with a great splash that kicked up an enormous plume of water. Waves crashed into the side of the creature, sloshing over the edge and wetting its passengers' feet. And then Will felt its carapace shift beneath him, and he looked back just in time to see a great, finned tail lift out of the sea and rise high into the sky. Water cascaded off of it and fell through the air like a torrent of rain before it crashed back down into the waves with an impact so heavy that Will nearly lost his balance from the force of the blow.
And then they were moving, the water rushing by far faster than Will would have expected with such an immense beast. The wind picked up, buffeting his face and whistling through the edges of his armor, and he took a deep breath full of the salty air. Someday, he decided, he would come back to the sea when all the fighting was over. He could get used to a place like this.
Someday, of course, if the gods saw fit to let him survive this whole ordeal. But I am one of the gods here, he thought again. Does that mean I make my own fate? He set his jaw and his hand went up unconsciously to touch the handle of the new longsword on his back—an unfamiliar handle that did not fit him, attached to an unfamiliar blade that would never feel right. But for the time being, it would do. If that was what it took to stop the traitorous Fallen, then he could live with a strange sword.
Sixteen
Of the three Deaths, the Behemoth was the strongest. Into its pit of endless hunger the Dark One poured unfathomable power. And when the beast was finished, the Dark One unleashed it upon the seas. It devoured all it encountered, constantly feeding its insatiable appetite, and mankind
despaired. Whole cities were abandoned along the coast, and tales of a massive demon from beneath the waves kept children from playing in the waters.
But Beros, Titan of the Five Seas, would let his home be desecrated no longer.
His power came from the sea, and like the sea it was an endless, flowing, crushing force that could smite all in its path as quickly as it gave life to the creatures beneath the waves. From this font of energy he drew the plans for the Leviathan, designed to be the Behemoth's equal in every way, and destined to battle its nemesis until the end of time.
~
Clare's first thought was that the City in the Waves, even from the great distance at which she was viewing it, was breathtakingly beautiful. A twisting, towering column of bleached white coral that rose high into the air, it shone so brightly in the tropical sunlight that Clare had to shield her eyes. Her next thought was that she had never before in her life seen so much coral, much less all in one place; it was so vast that its width was nearly as long as the Leviathan, and it was so tall that had there been any clouds, Clare was sure its highest spires would have just scraped their undersides.
And her third thought was that, this far out in the sea, there must have been enough of the city beneath the waves to dwarf what was above them.
There were ships, too—dozens of ships of every size and make imaginable. They extended for leagues in all directions, their sails fluttering serenely in the wind and the sound of men and women calling out to one another drifting faintly through the air. As they drew closer, she could see sailors on the nearest ships scrambling about the rigging, raising new flags the color of the sea. They were embroidered with the image of a golden fish in mid-jump; Clare guessed they must be Borbos' personal heraldry.
She did not know how long she stood staring at the fleet and the city, but she was eventually startled from her awed reverie by a rough hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Katryna and Borbos' woman—Caleeta, was it?—standing behind her.