Arkon eased himself toward Aymee, moving slowly. Randall’s brows lowered over the bridge of his nose, falling over pained eyes.
Aymee looked at Arkon. “We’re going now.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Cyrus growled. He lunged forward and thrust his hand out.
Something glinted in the air. Arkon’s hearts skipped — it was the knife. He twisted his torso aside to avoid the flying blade. It skimmed across his chest, leaving a line of fire in its wake, and clattered against the cliffside.
“Arkon!” Aymee screamed.
Cyrus was already in motion when Arkon turned back.
The human had closed the distance between himself and Aymee. Before Arkon could react, Cyrus grabbed her wrists. She struggled, and he slammed his knee into her stomach.
The gun in her hand went off with a boom. Its recoil kicked the weapon from her grip as she doubled over with a wheeze.
Arkon surged toward them. Cyrus released Aymee and met Arkon’s charge, and they tumbled into the sand.
Skin a deep crimson, Arkon rolled atop Cyrus. The human swung his arms, fists balled. Arkon shrugged off the blows and coiled tentacles around Cyrus’s arms and legs, wrenching them apart; the man was strong, but not strong enough. Arkon slammed the edge of his fist down into Cyrus’s face. Again, and again, each time seeing Cyrus hit Aymee in his mind’s eye.
Warm blood splattered Arkon. The human’s struggles weakened.
Cyrus’s head lolled to the side, and his breath rattled. Arkon drew back for another blow.
He hesitated. These men had come to hunt monsters. Arkon refused to be one.
He cast aside his rage, and concern flooded into its place. Pushing up off Cyrus, he turned to Aymee.
She’d crawled to Randall — who lay on his back in the sand — and knelt over him, sobbing. Arkon moved to her.
Randall’s face was a mask of pain, teeth clenched and bared. Aymee had torn fabric from her skirt and held it to his shoulder. Blood covered her hands and seeped from Randall’s wound.
“I’m so sorry,” Aymee cried.
Arkon frowned and lowered himself beside her.
“I shot him, Arkon,” she said, turning her watery eyes toward him. “I could have killed him. He could still…”
After glancing at the unconscious forms of Joel and Cyrus, Arkon returned his attention to Randall. Though he’d spent countless hours learning everything he could from the Computer back in the Facility, studying human anatomy with particular curiosity, he possessed no practical experience; he’d been lucky to succeed in sealing Macy’s wounds from the razorback, nothing more. He knew only that humans were more fragile than kraken.
“I need to get the bullet out,” she said.
“We need to leave, Aymee.”
“But he—”
“How likely is it that people in town heard those shots, Aymee?”
“They would have heard,” she said quietly.
“How many more of these men are there?”
She was silent for several moments as she stared at Randall’s wound. “Go.”
“I will not leave you with these men,” Arkon said, hooking a finger under her chin and guiding her face toward him. “It very well might have been us sprawled out in the sand bleeding, Aymee. Only we wouldn’t have had a chance to get back up. Do what you can for him, quickly, and your father will see to the rest.”
Aymee searched his eyes and, finally, nodded. “Keep this in place and lift him.”
Arkon pressed his hand over the blood-soaked cloth on Randall’s shoulder when she pulled away, and slowly raised Randall’s torso off the sand.
Randall groaned. “Don’t go,” he said. “It won’t... How will it look? You have to stay. Explain.”
“You can tell them the truth,” Aymee said as she tore another long strip from her skirt. She wrapped it around Randall’s back and chest, tying a knot over the wadded cloth Arkon held in place.
Shouts carried to them from inland. Arkon didn’t want to drag Aymee away from all she knew, but after this experience, how could he entrust her safety to other humans? How could he believe that she’d be all right while Cyrus and the hunters were near?
“Come, Aymee. The others may not hesitate to use their long guns when they come upon this scene.”
She nodded and stood up, but Randall caught her wrist.
Fire burst through Arkon’s chest. He clenched his teeth, barely keeping himself from attacking.
“Aymee…” Randall rasped.
“Arkon is right,” she said, gently prying his hand off. “I’m sorry. I tried to tell you.” She stepped back. “It didn’t have to be this way. It still doesn’t have to be this way. Tell them the truth.”
“My people do not want another fight,” Arkon said, moving beside Aymee. “Please, do not bring one to us. The past does not need to be repeated.”
He held out his hand to Aymee and met her gaze. She took it, and together they picked up the canisters they’d planned to exchange and moved toward the sea.
This was not the Aymee he’d known; the light of life had dimmed in her eyes, and there was no trace of joy on her face. He only hoped the change was temporary, and that he wasn’t the one responsible for breaking her spirit.
Arkon wouldn’t be able to live with that.
Chapter 10
It was a long while before Arkon’s hearts eased and the frantic energy in his limbs dissipated. All he focused on, at first, was getting Aymee well away from the beach. He’d moved quickly, and though the choppy water splashed her face numerous times, she voiced no complaint.
He’d expected to hear the boom of a gunshot at any moment, to feel the jolt of impact.
He slowed only after they were well beyond the landward current and the voices from the beach had long since faded. The cut on his chest stung, but the pain was tolerable; once they found a place to shelter for the night, it would have plenty of time to heal.
Aymee clung to him as he swam — arms around his neck, legs encircling his torso, chest pressed against his back. Apart from her occasional coughing or sputtering after being splashed, she was quiet. Tremors pulsed through her limbs; each time she trembled, she squeezed him a little tighter.
The sun sank rapidly, unconcerned with their plight. The ocean’s surface rippled like liquid gold. Part of him recognized the beauty on display all around, but he rejected it. Only Aymee’s safety mattered, and all the beauty in the world wouldn’t help that.
Where should we go?
He’d acted in the heat of the moment, had operated on instinct, having known only that they needed to depart before more humans arrived. But Arkon was unaccustomed to life on land, and Aymee didn’t have a diving suit to survive under water. She’d need one of the suits Macy used if he wanted to take her to the Facility.
Not that he could take her there. Even after the trials she and Jax had faced, Macy still wasn’t accepted by all. Introducing another human — unproven and unknown — could push the tensions past the point of sensibility and control, leaving Aymee and Macy both in unnecessary danger.
That left only one place; the location was oddly fitting.
He continued along the coastline toward the Broken Cavern.
When Jax had first convinced Arkon to visit the place, they’d been younger — kraken hunters who’d only just reached their majority and begun truly contributing to their people’s wellbeing. It was amongst the first places Jax discovered in his early wanderings, and his excitement, coupled with the promise of seeing some amazing human creations, had coaxed Arkon into going.
By the time Aymee and Arkon reached the Broken Cavern, the daylight had dwindled to a soft glow. The entrance was a rectangular opening carved into the rocky shoreline.
“What is that place?” Aymee asked, weariness and curiosity evident in her voice. It was the first time she’d spoken since leaving the beach.
Midnight blue water flowed into the Cavern, where it met solid, impenetrable blackness.
“It is a place your people built long ago, intended to house large, underwater boats.”
She fell silent. Arkon imagined her brow furrowing as she studied what little of the structure was visible.
Arkon activated his lights — points of bioluminescence within his stripes that cast a soft blue glow, not unlike that of halorium — as they passed into the tunnel.
Aymee’s gasp echoed off the walls. “You glow?”
“Just another part of our design.” His light was bright enough to touch the concrete walls on either side, but only barely. “It was likely meant to allow us to work at night or in undersea caves.”
She unraveled an arm from around his neck and ran her fingertips over the stripes on his head. “Macy didn’t mention this. And she didn’t say much about what happened.”
His skin tingled under her touch, and he felt some degree of guilt at his body’s reaction, after everything that had transpired.
“About what happened? Do you mean between our people?”
“Yes.” Her arm slipped back around his neck. “You said something about it on the beach.”
He frowned. Their voices, though hushed, reverberated off the walls and ceiling, and the sound of the ocean was muted, leaving only the steady splash of water against concrete. This dark, abandoned place seemed the wrong location to speak of such things, but that sentiment was irrational.
“The kraken were engineered by humans to collect a rare element from the seafloor called halorium. Our first generations were essentially slave laborers, but they learned much faster than the humans realized. After years of poor treatment and experimentation, my people revolted against the humans in the underwater facility that served as the operation’s headquarters.”
“Where Macy is now.”
“Exactly where she is now. There was fighting, but it seems to have been largely one-sided. The humans were comfortable in their dominance. They never saw it coming.”
The tunnel opened into the huge main chamber; a gaping hole in the ceiling granted a glimpse of the sky, which was now filled with dark clouds. The dim light from outside reflected on the surface of the water and glinted on the mangled remnants of one of the bridges that had spanned the water.
“How did we never know?”
Her question was likely rhetorical, but Arkon couldn’t help but answer. “I know there were attempts made to contact the mainland, but I do not know if any of those communications were transmitted. The kraken had grown knowledgeable enough to damage the communications array of the Facility and isolate it completely.”
“How do you know they tried to contact mainland?”
“Because the Computer in the Facility has records of those attempts.”
Macy had discovered one such message after she figured out how to access the Computer’s data, and Arkon had found several more in the months since. Regardless of what had brought about the situation, despite the mistreatment that had preceded the kraken uprising, the emotion in some of those messages was overwhelming. They had been desperate people looking death in the eye.
“What did they say?” she asked.
Arkon swam them to one of the ladders inset in the concrete wall and helped Aymee onto it. “They...begged for aid, mostly. For rescue. And the last one told anyone listening to stay away. That there wasn’t anything — or anyone — left to save.”
Aymee climbed to the top rung. Water streamed off her, and her tattered clothing molded to her body. She stepped off and moved aside.
“I wonder if that’s why we know nothing of that place — of you. That the humans in charge wanted it secret to keep people safe.”
He shifted the canisters to his tentacles and pulled himself up the ladder. His bioluminescence did little to light this area; most of the chamber was utterly lost in darkness, save for the edges highlighted by the night sky overhead.
When he turned to her, he paused. His light caught in the moisture on her skin, giving her a glow of her own — a thousand tiny points of reflected light, more beautiful than the star-filled sky. Though she wore the suffering of the day’s events in her expression and the bruise on her cheek, she was breathtaking. An ethereal vision he might not have believed was real had he not touched her, held her, kissed her.
“I...” It took no small degree of concentration for Arkon to recall what she’d said a moment earlier. “I think...yes. That’s plausible. There was some connection between the Facility, this place, and The Watch, but I have been unable to find solid information in that regard.”
He moved away from her, tucking the containers under his arms again, and scanned their surroundings. Though most of it was lost in darkness, the cavern was huge, with two tiers — their current level and another above it, with several wide sets of steps linking the two. The set-up was mirrored on both sides of the water. Everything was built of the same manmade stone, its planes too perfect to be natural.
Arkon shifted his attention to the ceiling. The damage there was likely the result of time and weather. The massive chunks of broken concrete had destroyed one of the two bridges that linked the sides of the bay, and Arkon little trusted the area around the damage; even a small piece could prove deadly.
Aymee’s gaze dropped. She inhaled sharply and stepped toward him. “You’re hurt! Why didn’t you say something?” She lifted her hands to his chest, her touch light as she inspected his cut.
Despite her gentleness, the wound burned. Fresh blood oozed from it.
“I... I have nothing to stitch this with,” she reached down and grasped her skirt with both hands, “but we can bandage it for now.” There was a helpless note in her voice.
He coiled a tentacle around each of her wrists, halting her hands. She looked up at him with a desperate gleam in her eyes.
“It is fine, Aymee. I am fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Once we settle down and rest, the wound will have ample time to heal. It will nearly be gone by morning.”
Her gaze dipped to his chest again, dropped to her wrists, and she burst into tears.
Arkon frowned and set the canisters on the floor. He’d seen Macy cry before, but nothing like this. It writhed through his insides, tugged on something in his chest, and made his hearts thump.
Aymee is a healer, not a hunter. What she went through today was probably unlike anything she’s experienced in her life.
Releasing her wrists, he drew her into a close embrace, smoothing her hair down with his palm. Aymee embraced him, clinging tight. Her sobs were ragged and painful, and shudders tore through her body.
She buried her face against his shoulder. “This is my fault.”
“No, Aymee,” he said softly. “You and I are not blameless, but we did not push it to this point. I should have listened to you from the start. You were the one thinking logically, the one trying to be safe.”
“But I d-didn’t fight you. I wanted to see you. I wasn’t careful. They found you because of me, because I couldn’t k-keep quiet, because of my sketches.”
He carefully combed the tips of his claws through her wet hair. “You did nothing wrong, Aymee. Nothing. I knew the danger. You warned me many times. But...I couldn’t stay away from you either. You were worth the risk. You are worth the risk.”
For a time, the only sounds she produced were the occasional whimper or sniffle. Her hold on him didn’t loosen. When she’d finally calmed, she rested her cheek, still damp with tears, against the uninjured side of his chest.
“I shot someone,” she said softly.
“It was an accident.”
“I know. I know it was, but I can’t stop thinking about it. If it had hit him a few inches to his right, it would have killed him.”
“But it didn’t.” He settled his chin atop her head. “Those men are hunters, Aymee. They made their choices and accepted the risks. Every time they go out, each of them must know in his heart that he may not return. And one of those men would have killed you if he’d had a little more time.�
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She released a shaky sigh. “Despite the circumstances, I’m glad you’re here with me.”
Relief flowed through Arkon; though the day’s events had pushed his worries from his mind, he hadn’t let go of the notion that he’d wronged her, that he’d turned her away, that she’d lost whatever interest she might have held for him.
He cupped his hand behind her head and pressed his face to her hair. “Me too.”
After a few moments, his gaze drifted to the break in the ceiling. “Let’s find a spot to rest. We can talk more in the morning.”
“Okay.” She stepped back; he released her reluctantly.
Arkon collected the canisters and led her to the steps farthest away from the structural damage. Placing the containers at the base of the steps, he eased himself down against the wall beside them. When Aymee sat next to him, he pulled her close, and she slipped her arms around him.
He settled his arm over her shoulders, and Aymee — warm, soft, and vulnerable — leaned into him. Had things gone differently, he might have brought her here one day, if only to show her the massive painting on the lower level’s rear wall. Perhaps they’d have come by boat or fetched one of the diving suits for Aymee to use. Either way, sharing in their mutual appreciation of such works would’ve been worth the journey.
In the relative quiet — the sound of the water lapping the walls was almost gentle here, and wind whispered across the gap overhead — his mind turned to the events on the beach. Had he chosen correctly? Had he handled it as he should have?
What would the hunters tell their comrades, what would they tell the townsfolk?
Arkon thought of the hologram recordings of the last humans in the Facility, of their fast, brutal battles against the kraken. Of the slaughter and the blood.
He could only hope he hadn’t set a similar conflict into motion.
He looked down at Aymee. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep, and her body relaxed against him in sleep. Arkon hadn’t lied; she was worth all the risks. Jax had defied two peoples because he thought Macy was worth it, and Arkon would do the same without hesitation for Aymee.
Jewel of the Sea (The Kraken Book 2) Page 13