As the bell on the ship rang out a third time—more frantically than anyone had heard in their employ there—the mercenaries brandished their swords and went in for the kill. They slashed and stabbed the fearsome beast, but the wounds they inflicted upon it didn’t seem to slow it down. The kraken pulled more of its oily, black tentacles up from the depths, and with that increased balance, it was ready to counter against the men who dared to attack it.
With tremendous force, the closest tentacle swept across the deck of the platform, knocking hired swordsmen from their feet. Armor rattled, and blades slipped from the hands of those who were expected to fight pirates, not sea monsters.
Another tentacle reached out and grasped one of the fallen mercenaries by the leg. Despite his protests, and his struggles to remain in place, he was dragged closer and closer to that aperture and the beast’s vicious mouth. One of his companions grabbed him around the neck of his tunic, but he was ripped away, only the fabric remaining in his would-be savior’s hands.
The kraken didn’t feast on the man, though. He tugged him from the rig, into the depths below, ceasing his panicked scream all too fast.
The rest of the mercenaries there took stock of their situation. All their attacks seemed to offer nothing beyond superficial damage. Not one of them had even seen so much as a drop of blood from the cephalopod.
“Run,” the most seasoned of them offered. “I’ll buy you boys some time.”
As they considered his words, he charged forth, raising his sword high. He leapt from the platform and aimed right for that elongated head. With both hands upon his weapon, he skewered the beast and held on for dear life.
Those of his allies who were brave enough to remain behind watched as the blade carved a hole into the monster. But no muscle or sinew or fleshy bits could be seen inside. It was just…nothing.
That heroic mercenary, covered in the oil that would have made for a wealthy find, felt his footing slip. He ventured a look down and saw that the beast’s tentacles were reaching up for him.
With a grin and an arched eyebrow, the fellow held tight to his sword and kicked his feet into the creature’s body. He turned to his side as he worked, ready to leap back to the safety of the rig.
But his boots didn’t land upon anything substantial. As he pushed into the creature’s frame, his feet plunged into a mass of black that was more liquid than solid. And once they were inside that mysterious monster, there was no getting them back.
His closest companion watched as two more tentacles protruded from the area near him, materializing from nowhere. They reached out and grasped the would-be hero, tugging him into the black mass. Despite his struggles, he was enveloped in that sludge a moment later, taking one last gasp before he disappeared into the unknown.
Watching their friend’s harrowing death was enough to spur the rest to action. They spun about and raced for the gangplank, painfully aware that there was nothing to be gained from their baseless attacks.
The men aboard the Titan’s Quill watched in terror as the beast lifted from the depths, its head slamming against the derrick atop the rig. As unbelievable as it was, the huge construct popped and bent and tilted. While the oily beast lurched forward, everyone aboard that ship was privy to the sight of the platform ripping apart due to the damage it sustained.
“You’ve got to weigh anchor, Captain,” Roland assured. “We ain’t no match for that thing.”
“That platform belongs to the kraken now,” another crewman bade.
“If we depart now, the mercenaries—” Douglas tried to protest.
“That’s what they get paid for!” the big man snapped.
With a dejected gaze, Captain Falind allowed a nod to display his choice.
“Now, now, now!” Roland growled. “Weigh anchor and get us on our way home!”
Those mercenaries on the run charged as fast as they could when they saw the sails unfurl on the remaining ship. The gangplank wobbled as one of the points of contact drifted away.
Only one of those swords for hire reached the ship in time, leaping for the deck as his platform shuddered and fell.
Some of those left behind maintained their balance upon that long, floating strip of wood, but several of the men teetered and fell into the water.
It would not matter. The kraken charged forth faster than anyone could have suspected, shredding through the gangplank like a huge saw at a lumber mill. The mercenaries were thrown or ripped into the water, never to be seen again.
As dour as it was, Captain Falind breathed a sigh of relief as the monster focused on those men instead of his departing ship. Another screech rang out as the kraken submerged beneath the waters once more.
“What happened out there?” Roland yelled at the fellow who had first noticed the strange monster. Douglas was too shaken to answer the big man. Nobody was sure if he even heard him over the furious beating of his heart. That wasn’t good enough for the other crewman, who grasped the lad by his tunic and hoisted him up straighter. “Why did that thing come after us?” he snarled.
“Leave him alone,” another worker snapped. “He tried to warn us.”
“Load of good that did,” Roland said. “Our platform’s done for, and we lost all of Ravenhand’s men.”
“Enough!” the captain called out. “Focus less on bickering with each other, and instead, get us out of here as fast as you can. We need to let our sister ships know it’s no longer safe out here. Seven hells, we have to let the Navy know it isn’t safe anywhere out here, if that monster is still out here.”
“I saw Crispin cut through the thing like warm butter, and the thing kept going,” one of the crew said.
“How could that thing just show up out of nowhere like that?” another wondered.
“You lads know these waters were never really tamed,” Falind said. “Between pirates, the razorfins, and the things left unknown, we just hope we can get along out here without any problems.”
Nobody noticed when Douglas slipped away from the conversation. He found himself drawn to the bow of the ship, watching the water in the setting sunlight. Home was still so far away when a chill ran up his spine.
“It’s not over,” he whispered into the sea air.
At once, the creature surfaced in the water in front of the Titan’s Quill. Somehow, without the destroyed oil platform surrounding it, the kraken looked as monstrous as ever. It may have even dwarfed the ship.
Everyone behind Douglas noticed the creature burst into motion, trying to do whatever they could to survive it. The lad felt as though everything was unravelling in slow motion. He watched in terror as that nearest black tentacle went up into the air, and he said a silent prayer to all of the gods he could remember in those few moments.
As the monster came back down upon the ship, he was sure they weren’t listening.
It was as if the kraken knew exactly where to strike. The tentacle lashed down upon the center of the ship, just before the mainmast. As slow as things seemed to move in those first few seconds, everything that happened afterward felt like a single strike of lightning.
As the mainmast pitched forward, planks on the deck jutted up into the air. The crow’s nest ripped through the sail on the foremast, shearing through the canvas until it smashed into the forecastle. The railing there blew apart as though a rival ship had sent a catapult volley through the air. Some of that debris whipped out then, causing more damage. A piece of wood about the size of his forearm struck Douglas in the back of his head, and he lurched forward.
In the chaos of it all—sails being torn to shreds, the hull collapsing under the weight of the monster’s dark appendages, and sailors and workers being plucked into the oblivion—Douglas found himself in the water, clinging to the remains of the bowsprit. The carnage still unfolded behind him as the momentum of the water took him away, but his head throbbed from his injury, and he felt as though at any moment he’d expel the contents of his stomach into the sea.
Still, he managed t
o give one last, fleeting glance at the Titan’s Quill.
The kraken hovered atop the sinking ship, almost as though it were celebrating the destruction it had inflicted.
Once more, though, Douglas found himself questioning his sanity. As he peered across the water to the sinister, dark force, he saw those tentacles and the head of that cephalopod strip away. The oily substance that covered the monster flattened out into a stepped platform, and at its top, a lone figure stood. Across that distance and through his blurry vision, Douglas wasn’t certain that what he saw was real. But as his consciousness slipped away from him, he clung to one last thought.
The creature that had sought to kill them all was a man.
*****
“You’re far too hard on him,” the eldest at the table said. “It’s been a difficult time for our city, and we started him down a confusing path none could have expected to be so harrowing.”
“People are dying, Edmund,” Jonathan said. “If we don’t push people to their limits, they’ll never be any better than they are. It’s been weeks, and still the killer is out there.”
“I hear they fished a fourth woman from the harbor,” Timothy ventured.
“And more will certainly follow her if something isn’t done soon,” Jonathan grumbled. “To make matters worse, Purdell hasn’t been here once since our first meeting. If he needs help, all he has to do is ask.”
Edmund forced out an agitated sigh. “At his heyday, even Vidic would have had immense troubles with something like this. A serial killing isn’t a trifle; it’s not some crime of passion. Whoever we’re dealing with, they’re looking to challenge us.”
“Gerard certainly has some large shoes to fill,” Timothy agreed.
The fourth member of that table cleared his throat. All eyes turned to Raymond, who nodded and tapped his fingers on the table. “Even if he will not ask, perhaps help can be given to him. The military is already spread thin, but there are other means available to us to protect our streets.”
“The Silver Serpent?” Edmund wondered.
A laugh couldn’t be contained behind the wealthy fellow’s lips. “I was thinking something a little more realistic. We can’t rely on fairytales to save our citizens. But perhaps I could throw some coin to Ravenhand.”
“Ravenhand?” Jonathan growled. “His men lack the discipline of a trained soldier. Having them under the employ of the city would lead to even more problems than we have now, Bellweather.”
The treasurer shook his head. “I’m not talking about anything substantial. But having extra people on patrol at night might help us in the long run. That seems to be when this killer is on the loose, at the very least. Perhaps the added manpower will frighten him into ceasing his actions long enough for the good constable to do his part.”
“We have to do something,” Timothy added. “The people are growing anxious. Some are even arming themselves.”
“I am under agreement,” Edmund said. “If we don’t at least play at making the streets seem safer, we might be witness to riots. There could be more problems on the horizon.”
The doors to the chamber creaked open, and the quartet of men at the table turned in their chairs to see who approached. A wiry young lad with a rolled piece of parchment in his hand bowed his head every few steps, but the oldest fellow at the table waved him in. Though it took that messenger a while to venture into the room, once the scroll was delivered, he zipped out of the chamber faster than anyone could have predicted.
As the old researcher and master of the arcane arts unfurled that parchment, the other gentlemen at the table discussed other minutiae. It was the military advisor who noticed the concern on their companion’s face.
“Don’t tell me there’s another body already,” Jonathan grumbled.
“No, Lord Kiernan, not a body,” Edmund said. “Dozens. It seems there was an attack of some sort at sea, and there was but a single survivor.”
“Pirates?” the military advisor asked.
“The lad would not say. He was fished out of the water about a day’s journey to the north, but the rest of the crew and workers aboard the Titan’s Quill never made it back to shore.” He pushed out from the table, rolling the parchment into a narrow tube once more. With a nod, he tapped that document against the wood as if it were a gavel. “This meeting is over. I must go and meet this fellow for myself.”
“Stay vigilant,” Raymond said then. “All of you.”
Edmund did not wait to continue the discussion. Despite his age, he raced from the council chamber, knowing he would be requesting the help of an old friend.
*****
Though the trunk was filled to the brim, he rolled up one more garment and worked to stuff it inside. The thrashing he had taken from the Titan was long behind him, but Thoro still felt out of breath. Every time he inhaled, it felt like a gasp, fleeting and shallow.
He knew it wasn’t because of any injury.
As the door creaked open, he turned, his hand already on the dagger on his belt. When it was a cautious woman he saw, he finally let his guard down.
“Is anyone else out there?”
“No,” Brielle said. “It’s too early for anybody of their kind.”
“What about Heggins?” Thoro asked. “Is he up there yet?”
“He would never do anything to hurt either of us,” the lass said. “He’s practically a father to me.”
He nodded. “I’m not worried he would do anything to hurt us. I’m worried Jerrod and his zealots would do something to him to get to us.”
“We have nothing to worry about,” Brielle promised. “As much as it dismays me, I didn’t even write him a note to say I’d be leaving.” She swallowed away the tension building in her throat, then. “I wanted to, more than you could know. I wanted to let him know the things I told you, that I overheard Jerrod talking about using all that he’s gained in these past weeks to strengthen his hold on the city, and that he plans on using that tome once more. I knew that I couldn’t, though.”
“No,” Thoro agreed. “It’s too risky.” He stopped before the woman who had earned his affections and swept a stray hair from her face. In that moment, his breathing settled, and the beating of his heart steadied. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
A smile stretched her lips. “I would go anywhere with you.”
“I don’t know what I’ll be able to offer you wherever that is,” Thoro warned. “This life is all I’ve known. I’ve never learned any trades or pursued any studies. You could be venturing into a life that’s even worse than what we face here.”
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Whatever we do, you’ll be great at it. Don’t you know how rare it is for someone to be an expert at something the first time they try it?”
Thoro held her tight, swaying as though there were music. But in that quiet, with only the flicker of the lantern light on the opposite wall, he considered the opportunities and challenges before them.
“My father was a cooper,” he said. “It didn’t seem like much, but it was enough to put food on the table for my mother and her three children.”
“If I can find work as a barkeep there, we’ll certainly start on the right foot,” she said.
“Enough talk,” Thoro bade. “Let’s follow our dreams on the way to Peritas. We just have to make one quick stop at my house, and we’ll be on our way.” He hoisted the case into the air and made his way to the door, while Brielle opened the window of the glass lantern and blew out the flame.
With smiles on their faces, they joined at the exit to her room.
Neither of them could have expected to see the fellow waiting there on the other side of the door when they swung it open.
“Hello, Thoro.”
At the sight of Jerrod and his wry grin, both fleeing citizens went rigid. The Magician leaned against the frame of the door and tilted his head when he noticed the items in their hands.
“Going somewhere, are we?” he asked.
T
horo couldn’t find the words to answer him, but Brielle stepped forward. “He asked me to move in with him,” she said, forcing a smile. “I said yes.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Jerrod replied, pivoting on his heel to let them pass. “Many happy returns to you both.”
With his heart beating fast enough that he thought it might leap from his chest, Thoro nodded. He kept his eyes fixed on the door on the opposite side of the room, though his ears were trained to the sound of the woman he loved and her footsteps as she glided across floor with the remainder of their belongings.
Before the fallen member of the Brotherhood could escape to the stairway to the tavern proper above, another door slammed shut in that room. He turned and noticed Jerrod was gone, though the torch in the sconce beside the leaders’ room was sputtering.
He locked eyes with Brielle and blew out an unsteady sigh. “Forget going to my house,” he said. “Let’s just leave this forsaken place.”
Though she wanted to remain strong for him, she found herself nodding as well. There was no hope for them in Argos.
Perhaps they would find peace on the road to Peritas.
*****
Once more, a throng of people was before him. The victim had already been found and brought to land, but that didn’t keep the populace of Argos from crowding her and the man who found her.
Though it felt as if his mind was swimming, Gerard couldn’t be swayed. He felt somehow empowered in recent days, and he pushed through the crowd with purpose.
“Nobody is doing anything until someone with authority arrives,” he heard then.
As the constable pressed through the horde of people, they began to make way for him. Before long, he was given room without having to shove anyone aside. There was a clear path between him and the body, along with the man who had found her.
Gerard approached with intensity, crouching beside the body when he arrived there. He stared into that old fellow’s eyes, as if he saw something there that the others didn’t. There was passion apparent in the person’s gaze. Was this citizen of Argos convinced enough of his duties that he refused to leave the poor woman?
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