by Dan Avera
But neither creature seemed to care about the destruction they were causing, so intent were they on utterly destroying each other. Will saw the Leviathan lunge forward and seize a mouthful of the Behemoth's flailing tentacles in its jaws, and then rip its head savagely to the side. Great gouts of blood jetted into the air from the tentacles' stumps, and the Behemoth screamed and writhed in pain. The Leviathan seemed to have gained the upper hand, but in the next instant the Behemoth lunged forward and wrapped its remaining tendrils around its opponent's stout neck. The tiny talons on its underside scrabbled at the Leviathan's skin, shredding its flesh and making it roar in pain, and the countless teeth in its flower-petal maw gnawed relentlessly at the Leviathan's throat.
The Leviathan's crab-like claws came up then, and it plunged them deep into the Behemoth's wormy body, the force of the blow tearing the tentacles from the Leviathan's neck and sending the Great Devourer crashing back into the ocean. The impact sent a wave high into the air, and the water crashed back down with enough force to destroy a small human city.
Will was awestruck. He had lived a life of such extreme violence that very little phased him anymore. But never before had he seen such rampant destruction, and his mind rebelled at the idea of such a force, much less two of them. But I am just like them, he thought. Didn't Borbos say that I was the only thing besides the Leviathan that could stop the Behemoth? He looked down at his hands as though they were a stranger's. How is it possible to fit all that power inside such a small body?
A screech of pain made Will return his gaze to the watery viewing pane, where the Leviathan had its jaws locked around the base of the Behemoth's head and was stabbing it repeatedly with its front limbs. The surface of the City, once pristine, was stained with dark smears of blood that continued to grow as the creatures tore into one another. The sea boiled and steamed with their gore, and the dark blue of the waves that crashed against the City's base had long ago given way to a light, frothy pink.
And still they fought.
“They're not going to stop,” Will said softly, and then realization struck him. “They're going to kill each other.” He turned to Borbos. “Aren't they?”
At first the Titan said nothing. He simply stared at the water with his arms folded across his chest and his jaw set in a look of rigid defiance. “Yes,” he finally whispered. “Yes, they will. Equally matched, they be. Once a fight gets underway, it be to the death. Always the same...always the same.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “But it be what the Leviathan was made for, so we can't be worrying too much, now, can we?” He gave Will a strained smile.
“So...” Clare said, disbelief in her eyes, “you're just...going to let the Leviathan die?”
Borbos nodded sadly, and Will saw tears glisten on his cheek.
“How can you do that?” Clare's voice was a whisper, and the disgust was plain in her words.
“My lady,” the Sea Spirit said softly, “this is its purpose. The Leviathan was created with the sole intention of being strong enough to keep the Behemoth from killing anything else. It is a martyr, a sacrifice for the greater good. This is how it has always been, and how it always will be.”
“Wait,” said Will, “you mean—?”
“Yes.” The Sea Spirit nodded, its golden eyes flashing. “Like us, the Leviathan will be born again. Like us, it never truly dies.”
“Like you, you mean,” Clare said softly. “I seem to be the only one around here who's going to disappear forever.”
The Sea Spirit said nothing—it simply stared at her, its expressionless face as alien and unreadable as the kelp it was made from. Will, for his part, looked away, unable to meet Clare's eyes. He wanted to say something to comfort her—but what could he?
The battle continued to rage in the watery window, with neither of the titanic beasts willing to give in. Blood hemorrhaged from the innumerable wounds that marred their bodies, splashing into the sea and splattering across the already crimson coral. The waves that crashed into the City's base had ceased long ago to wash the stains away, and left only cascades of diluted gore and gobbets of flesh in their wake. It tumbled down the smooth crags and cascaded back into the sea, where the process simply repeated itself in a never-ending cycle. Even through the window, even from so far away, their cries and bellows were deafening.
It was, as Borbos said, an equal battle to the end. Neither opponent fled, and for every wound one took, it gave one back to its foe. Will saw the Leviathan impale the Behemoth again, only to have one of its scything arms torn from its body in a shower of blood. It screamed in rage and pain and, with its remaining arm, lifted the Behemoth high into the air and slammed it against the side of the City, pinning it to the coral. Even at the City's center, Will was able to feel the tremor from the impact.
For a long time the two monsters remained thus, the Leviathan tearing with its savage jaws and the Behemoth scrabbling with its countless talons. The coral was stained dark with their blood, which flowed so freely now that it was a wonder neither of the combatants had died.
And then they did.
It was a slow process as they gradually weakened, but soon their movements turned sluggish and their cries quieted. The Leviathan gave one last, savage rip with its mighty jaws, and then it lay still. The Behemoth quivered, its tentacles twitching, and then its body fell limp against the side of the City. Nobody spoke. Tears ran freely down Borbos' face now, but his sadness was a silent one.
The first pink rays of the morning sun began to poke their faint fingers over the edge of the horizon, shedding their glow across the carnage. The gulls were not far behind, and soon great flocks of them wheeled in the sky, their raucous cries filling the morning air as they went to feast on the bodies of the slain.
“Well,” Borbos finally said, his voice very quiet, “I suppose we should go find the main fleet. If it even still exists.”
He left without another word. Will shared a private look with Clare, and then they followed him back out into the dawn sunlight.
~
The merfolk and the water drakes were waiting for them in the cavern, but the gaiety the fish people had displayed before was long gone. There was such heartbreaking sadness in their faces that Clare wanted nothing more than to hold them. They looked like lost children, their eyes vacant and vapid with shock. As Clare and the others descended to the waves below, she caught sight of the mermaid who had kissed her before. What was her name? Mileena?
Can you hear me, Mileena? she thought, unsure whether the merfolk's gift would still work above the surface. Her fingers went unconsciously to the kelp necklace at her throat; it was still pleasantly warm.
I can, came the solemn response in her mind. It is the only way we speak, after all. And you still bear the bihirit. For an instant the mermaid's sad eyes met Clare's. Mileena looked away a moment later and said nothing.
Mileena, we'll make them pay, Clare said. I promise. They'll pay for all the terrible things they've done.
I know you will, Mileena said, and she gave Clare a smile that failed to convey anything but sorrow. But it will not change the fact that the Leviathan is dead.
Clare had no response. No consoling words came to mind. She looked away from the mermaid's pitiful gaze, and did not look back.
The water drakes swam up to the coral steps as Clare neared the sea's edge, and some of the luster in their golden eyes had been dulled by the strangely human sadness in them. She stepped onto the lowest platform and knelt down next to the drakes where the shallow surf ebbed and flowed around her ankles, the foam on its surface no longer white and pristine but pink, stained by the blood of monsters. She reached out and gently ran her fingers along the drakes' jaws; they nuzzled her palms, and a deep, soft purr rumbled from somewhere in their throats.
“Best be off,” Borbos said behind her. His voice sounded unnaturally exhausted and strained—but then, she couldn't blame him. She moved to sit on the edge of the coral and, after a brief period of awkward positioning, straddled the nearest
drake and took hold of the spines along its crown. A moment later Will followed her lead. He, too, looked sad—defeated. She wished there was something she could say to comfort him, but as with Mileena, nothing came to her.
There were two soft splashes, and she swiveled at the waist to see Borbos and the Sea Spirit bobbing in the waves behind her. Borbos immediately struck out for the mouth of the cave, his body cutting through the waves with blinding speed. The merfolk followed close behind him, and the water drakes joined the throng as well. The sea churning around Clare's legs felt strangely different than it had before—almost as though it had grown denser, thicker, like syrup rather than...
No, wait, she realized, the last of the merfolk's gift must have worn off after we left the sea. This is what it feels like normally. She sighed, somewhat disappointed. She had grown to enjoy moving so effortlessly through the water, if only for a short time. It had almost felt like she imagined flying must.
“I'd keep a tight grip,” Will said as though reading her thoughts. “I don't think we'll float if we fall off this time.”
The raucous cries of feasting gulls flooded her ears as they passed the mouth of the cave and moved out into the dawn light. She looked to her right, knowing what she would see yet amazed nonetheless by the colossal forms that towered above her. Ruby blood still seeped and oozed from their wounds, leaking into the sea or drying on the coral where the water couldn't wash it away. And everywhere she looked, Clare could see gulls and countless other sea birds, all bobbing among the waves or circling through the air, darting in to pick pieces off of the Leviathan's corpse.
It was only the Leviathan that they ate, she realized—the Behemoth lay pinned against the coral unmolested, its foul stench wafting along the breeze and making Clare wrinkle her nose in disgust. Its worm-like body lay still, its many clawed legs and what remained of its tentacles hanging limply in the air.
“They aren't eating the Behemoth,” she said aloud, looking at Will, who nodded.
“It's hard to stomach pure evil, I imagine,” he said. “I guess the Leviathan never really stops helping the sea. Even dead, it's providing food. Look.” He pointed a short way off, where dozens of fins rose and fell gracefully from the waves as they made their slow, inexorable approach toward the City.
“Sharks,” Clare said with a shudder.
“Everything will have its chance,” Borbos said quietly as he swam along beside them. “Won't be long now—soon the Leviathan will be naught but bones, and those will tumble down to the bottom of the sea where some creature will make its home in them. Nothing will go to waste.”
Clare smiled softly. “I guess...I guess that's a good death, then, isn't it?” Borbos simply looked at her. “No matter what happens, it'll always be useful. And then, someday, it will be reborn and the cycle will begin again. I wish my situation was the same.”
Borbos looked at Will and said, “Lad, that be a wise girl you've got there. I'd hold on to that one.” Clare felt her cheeks redden, but she smiled all the same.
They picked up speed as they passed, and soon the City in the Waves was visible only as a white spire on the horizon. The sun had risen into the sky by then, and in the golden morning light the waves sparkled and shone as the sea churned, its calm waters belying the recent violence. It was a beautiful day, and despite the death of what for all intents and purposes had been a god, Clare felt a lightness in her heart. Will, she noticed, did as well—it was in the way he sat on his drake, his muscles relaxed and his lips ever so slightly curved in a ghost of a smile. He caught her staring at one point and smiled back at her. And for the moment, she almost forgot that yet another battle loomed on their horizon.
Almost.
The tranquility was over far too quickly. Midday was still a long way off when they saw the ships on the horizon, and it was not long after when they heard the first faint staccato pop of distant cannon fire. It grew steadily louder, as did the sound of screams, both human and otherwise. Clare felt the tranquility leave her as quickly as it had come, and the fingers of her wounded hand went absently to her sword.
“Borbos,” Will said as they drew nearer to the sounds of battle, “I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that there are a lot of enemies over there.” He cast a quick look around their little band before turning back to the Titan. “And I am somewhat concerned about our current numbers.”
It was true, Clare realized—the merfolk had taken quite a beating during their foray to the bottom of the sea and back. Their numbers had dwindled to perhaps half of what they had started with, and though they still sat somewhere in the hundreds she had the distinct impression that it would not be enough. If the yaru were anything to judge by, she thought, the tamyat will outnumber us yet again.
“Not to worry,” said Borbos. “The sea always provides.” And as the words left his mouth, countless fins broke silently through the waves all around them. Clare felt the dead-cold hand of fear seize her innards in its unrelenting grip, and her breath hitched.
The sharks were everywhere—even right beside her. Two were so close that she could literally have reached out and touched them had she felt the mad desire to do so, and their inky black eyes stared hungrily up at her. How had she not noticed them before? There were so many!
She looked over at Will and was somewhat relieved to see that he looked as she felt; the blood had drained from his face, leaving behind pallid skin tight with worry. His eyes flicked nervously around him, and she saw his throat bob as he swallowed. She looked away and tried to regain control over her fear; they did not, after all, seem about to attack. But she had heard so many stories, and had even seen a man's wounds once—horrific, curved lines of scarred flesh that had covered his arms and legs and most of his torso. How he had survived, she would never know.
“Do not be afraid,” Borbos said to them, noticing their reactions. “They be with us.” And then a grey shadow rose from the depths below him, its body longer and wider than any of the other sharks by at least a half. A gasp tore itself from Clare's lungs as the monster drew closer, and then it stopped just below the surface. Borbos seized its dorsal fin and pulled himself atop it so that he was riding it like a horse.
“And now the fun begins,” he said, though his tone suggested anything but fun was in store. He looked down at Will and Clare with a smile. “Have no fear. The sea be on our side.”
Off in the distance the line of dark smudges that had appeared on the horizon were rapidly growing larger. Pale smoke hung in thick, smothering clouds around the ships, obscuring much from view; only a few dozen were visible, with the rest of the armada completely obscured behind the veil.
Unless... An unwelcome thought suddenly struck Clare's mind; what if they were gone? What if all that remained of the armada was that small handful of battered vessels? She felt the pit of her stomach fall away, and thoughts of Castor and Katryna dashed through her mind. Oh, spirits, Katryna... She looked over at Will, and judging from his stricken expression he felt much the same way.
The corpses did not help, either; every so often they passed one by, its skin pallid and its clothing billowing weightlessly around it. Most floated face-down, but some the sea had been unable to turn. These Clare imagined were staring at her in mute, waterlogged horror, their eyes wide and unseeing. One man had been torn open from neck to navel, and his innards trailed behind him like the tentacles of some nightmarish jellyfish. There was no blood in the water—not yet. The armada had passed this place by long ago, and the sea had had the time to wash away the crimson stain. They never did see the bodies of any water demons, which Clare found odd; perhaps they had all sunk back down to the bottom.
“Fear not,” said a flanged voice to her left, and she turned to see the Sea Spirit drifting along beside her. The white humps of his guardians' shells sat just above the surface behind him. “Through the water I can see,” the Spirit continued, “and the majority of the fleet remains intact. They have suffered losses, but no heavy ones. The Titans fight on, as do
your friends.”
Clare breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the spirits,” she murmured.
“You are most welcome,” the Sea Spirit replied with the barest hint of a laugh in his strange voice, and when Clare looked at him askance one of his yellow eyes vanished for an instant in what she guessed was a wink.
“Make ready,” Borbos said, his words punctuated by the increasingly loud booms of the cannons. “We be getting close to the edge of the battle.”
Clare drew her sword with a ring of metal, and Will did the same. The weight of the weapon in her hand gave her a feeling of power, a sense of strength that she had lacked down at the bottom of the sea. But now, back up above the waves, she was moving inexorably back toward familiar ground. The water demons might have had the advantage in the darkness, but no longer, and once aboard the ships she would have solid footing again. She clenched her teeth in anticipation.
She did not have to wait long.
The first attack came from below, and for a moment she did not realize what was happening. It was only after they were gone that she noticed the shark fins had disappeared, and then the sea exploded a scant few paces in front of her, drenching here in a torrent of water and momentarily rendering her blind. The salt water burned her eyes, and through lids half-closed in pain she caught a fleeting glimpse of something large and grey and black before the blur of color and motion splashed back down into the waves, drenching her again—but this time with water tinted red with blood.
It was over in an instant, but then the world erupted into madness all around her. The water boiled and churned everywhere she looked, and patchwork clouds of crimson drifted to the surface all around her, drawing delicate traceries in the clear sea before melding into a murky mass that obscured what little vision she had below the surface. The morning light glared from the waves, blinding her to what was happening below, but she could just make out blurs of motion darting back and forth about her legs with frightening speed.