“That was what the fools aboard the Titan’s Quill thought as well. I ripped the swords from their hands and the flesh from their bones. And the same will happen to you if you do not move along from here. Once I was thrown to the sea, it became mine. This is my domain now, and you’ll not have it back.”
While the crew nearest to that cephalopod’s massive head determined whether they should cower, flee, or stand and fight, the lone person who had seen the beast before stood sentinel. Douglas tilted his head, trying to identify something he couldn’t pinpoint.
As the beast’s voice ceased its powerful echo, Kelvin spun the lad about. “What is it? What’s going on?”
“There’s something else,” Douglas replied. “I can hear something in its voice that sounds so familiar, but I can’t—”
“Fire!” both of them heard in the distance. The rest of the sailors on the Lockspark pulled weapons from scabbards or swung bows over their shoulders. A volley of arrows sailed through the sky from the direction of the Hornet.
Marin sent a scowl in that direction before she turned and leapt over the railing of the forecastle. “Get back to your ship, Edmund!” she bade. As she pushed the old fellow closer to what she hoped would be his sanctuary, her eyes fell upon the green-garbed lad on the advisor’s flagship. “What are you doing here?” she shouted.
Those arrows rained down on the kraken, plunging beneath the thick, black coating of oil that surrounded its body. It did not recoil. It only turned its head toward the attacking vessel, its slow movements making it appear even more sinister.
“Very well!” the loud voice bellowed. “It seems you’ve made your choice.”
“Weigh anchor!” someone aboard the Hornet cried.
“It’s him,” Douglas said. Without warning, he sprinted up the steps to the quarterdeck and leaned on the railing to peer out to the open sea.
Kelvin was quick to follow, coming up alongside the lad and hoping to see whatever he was looking for.
Both of them heard a resounding crack, and another figure emerged from the water. The setting sunlight shone upon the oily surface of another kraken, that one much nearer to the third ship. The large, sturdy tentacles wrapped around the hull at the aft of that vessel and pushed in until another piece of the rudder snapped off as well. Some of the men aboard that ship ventured to strike out at the monster, but others leapt overboard, preferring their chances away from the already listing ship.
“I know who the man is,” Douglas said. He turned to meet Kelvin’s gaze. “His name is Liam Black, and I think I understand why he is so angry.”
*****
He looked up at the rig, the tall tower atop the ocean impressive in many regards. How someone managed to put the thing together in the seas so distant from the shores of any of the islands of Ippius, he would never understand.
“Outta the way,” he heard, and before he could take the warning to heart, a stiff forearm cracked against his back.
It took everything he had to regain his balance before he spilled into the water. As the big man walked on, the newest laborer bowed his head.
“Don’t get too discouraged,” another fellow about his age said. “Roland is hard on everyone. You’re the newest recruit, right?”
The lean fellow nodded. “My name’s Liam.”
“I’m Douglas,” the other worker said. “Trust me, he’s like that with me still, and it was a lot worse when I started. Just keep your head down, and things’ll turn out all right.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Liam watched as Douglas went on his way, rolling an empty barrel around the far side of the platform.
“You there!” he heard. When he turned back to the Titan’s Quill, Liam saw the captain leaning over the railing. “You been assigned any work yet?”
“No, sir,” the laborer said.
“Then stop lollygagging and get up here. I have a task for you.”
Liam did his best to stifle a sigh and trudged up the gangplank to the main deck of the ship. When he arrived there, Falind looked upon him with a sour expression, his arms draped over his uplifted knee
“First off, when you address me, you’ll call me captain.”
“Aye, Captain,” Liam said.
Falind lowered his foot and bent low to open the chest he had balanced upon. Inside, there was a pile of netting that looked bunched and uneven, and the lad wondered if it could ever become untangled.
“You’re gonna take this and bring it down to the platform. Grab a hammer and some nails, and get this in place just beneath the rig. If anybody drops any tools or equipment, I want this thing to catch ‘em, you hear?”
“Aye, Captain,” the newest laborer said again.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Falind grumbled after he took a step back. “Get going!”
Liam was quick to reach into that chest and grab the pile of netting. It was in even worse tangles than he expected, and rather than spend another moment in the presence of the captain, he threw the jumbled mess atop his shoulder and made his way back to the gangplank.
Some of the other crew snickered as he lost hold of that uneven collection, but he was determined to make it down to the platform before he righted himself. How he managed to keep his footing upon that plank was something he could only guess at.
Learning the dance quickly, Liam spun and shifted out of the way of his workfellows as best he could. When he finally came to that aperture beneath the rig, he threw down the netting and blew out a sigh.
The lad set to his task, unravelling the netting and laying it out across the platform in a place he thought would be clear of any foot traffic. He soon learned there was no free place, and more than once a pair of boots kicked the ends of that netting back into a bunch he had to flatten out once more.
Once he untangled that mess, he searched about for a hammer not in use. He found one on the opposite side of aperture and plucked it up from the barrel it sat upon—along with a handful of nails. When he returned to his staging area, the netting was rolled up on itself again. Liam grumbled to himself but ignored his bad fortune, setting to work on smacking those nails into place on the beams all around the pool.
Everything seemed to be going off without a hitch. He had fallen into a rhythm he was comfortable with, and he had almost wrapped the netting all the way around that aperture. Liam wore a grin he couldn’t discard…until he bumped into another crew member and nearly knocked him over.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” the big man roared. Roland looked down at the new crewmember proving to be a constant pain in his side. “You again?” He seemed volatile enough at first, but when he looked down and saw what Liam had in his hands, his eyes widened. “What’s a runt like you doing with my hammer?”
As the newest laborer climbed to his feet, Roland grasped him by his shirt and lifted him without delay. Liam couldn’t hold onto the mallet, and it thumped to the ground. His large, angry coworker shoved him into a wide wooden pillar that kept the rig in place.
“You think it’s all right to just go around taking things that don’t belong to you?” Roland was close enough for Liam to smell the day-old alcohol on his breath. His gaze was averted, though. “Not man enough to look at someone when you’re being scolded like a child, is that it?”
He dropped the lad back to the ground and took a step back. Liam lunged forward, and Roland realized why. That hammer teetered on the edge of the aperture.
The newcomer wasn’t quick enough to reach it, though. The mallet tumbled off the side as his weight shifted, and he fell to his knees once more.
“It’s all right,” Liam bade before Roland could utter another word. “That’s the exact reason I put up the…” His words trailed off as he saw the netting floating there in the water.
He heard the big man’s approach and gnashed his teeth together as he waited for his thrashing. It never came, however.
“That’s coming outta your pay,” he warned.
Better than out of his hide, L
iam considered. He had never been so happy to hear a sound as he was when the bell on the mast of the Titan’s Quill started ringing. He was quick to move in that direction, not giving Roland any more reasons to grow angry with him. The lad jogged up that ramp, saying nothing to Captain Falind, and made his way to the hold, praying it would make a worthy sanctuary for the duration of the voyage back to shore.
*****
Liam sat in the corner of the dingy tavern, away from any of his workmates and far enough from the bar where he could ignore his dry mouth. Most of the other men were in good spirits, but across the way, he saw the large man whose hammer he had lost. Roland sat alone, several empty flagons of mead on the table already. He had chased away any who dared to sit at his table.
“I heard you had a rough go at it today,” a voice said.
When Liam turned in his chair, the fellow he had befriended earlier that day stood before him. Douglas offered a weary grin but didn’t take a seat with the dejected laborer.
“I’ve had better days,” he agreed.
“Well, like I said, don’t take it too hard. Everyone’s first day was difficult here. Tomorrow is just another day, and each of them gets easier.” He tapped his knuckles on the table and made his way toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Liam wondered.
Douglas let a chortle slip through his lips. “I only have one drink while I’m here. It’s enough to say I’m being social, and then I’m gone. Where’s yours?” he asked when he saw the bare table.
Blowing a sigh out through his nose, Liam shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of money.”
“That first week’s pay isn’t too far away now. Just hold out a little longer.” He didn’t offer anything else before he weaved through the raucous crowd and passed through the door to the street outside.
“Anything I can get for you, sugar?”
Again, Liam was caught off guard before he turned to acknowledge the person addressing him. When he turned and saw the woman before him, he almost fell out of his seat. Words spilled out of his mouth, but not in any coherent order. And when those failed, broken syllables took their place.
The buxom serving wench smiled and adjusted her body so she stood in an even more seductive pose. If she leaned any closer to him, she could have felt the heat radiating off his skin. His face flushed red, and she batted her eyes at him to tease him further.
“Can I get you any ale or mead or anything, hon?”
Liam stared for a few seconds longer. An attempt at words was getting him nowhere, so he just shook his head instead.
“All right, then,” that attractive woman said with a wink. “If you change your mind, just come and grab me.”
His eyes were locked to her as she walked away. That woman was more than aware of every part of her body as she sashayed through the room.
Before she drew too far from him, Liam’s eyes widened. He sprung from his seat and placed his hand on her shoulder.
She spun around with intrigue already on her pretty face. When she noticed the lean newcomer to the oilers, though, she couldn’t hide her surprise. “Well, that was quick,” she teased.
“I’m sorry,” he managed to blurt out, “but could you do something for me?”
“That depends on what you have in mind,” she replied, dragging her finger across his chest.
Stifling his anxiety, he asked her his favor. She offered him an enthusiastic nod, and he ran back to his table.
Liam steadied his breathing when he fell into his seat, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She sauntered to the bar and gathered a flagon of ale from the counter. Instead of bringing it back to that secluded table in the corner of the tavern, though, she brought it to the table in the center of the bar, where that big man drank alone. Though he had more than enough empty flagons in front of him, she set another filled one there.
All that anxiety seemed to melt away then. Liam bowed his head as he looked at the floor of the establishment. Perhaps Douglas was right. Maybe the next day would be better.
As he contemplated that possibility, another figure filled his vision. A pair of work boots was before him, and when he ventured a glance up, he knew it to be Roland. Perhaps his gesture had been appreciated. Maybe they could be friends yet.
That aggravated worker reached out and slowly poured the contents of the gifted flagon atop Liam’s head. The poor lad just sat there, his eyes closed as the warm liquid cascaded off his ears and nose, landing on his shoulders, the table, and the floor. When he felt that sensation cease, he labored from his seat.
The hefty punch to his nose was just as unexpected as the ale shower. His head cracked against the beam behind his chair, and had he not already had his eyes closed, he was sure his vision would have faded.
A few of the other members of the Titan’s Quill snapped at Roland and bid him to walk off his drunken stupor. That sound was not lost to Liam. In fact, with that sound being all he could rely on, he latched onto it. Everything in the tavern seemed louder than just a few moments before, even the footsteps that came racing his way.
The lad pulled away as a delicate touch landed on his arm. As he blinked away the pain and the discomfort, his vision returned to him, and he could see the attractive bar wench again.
“Are you all right?” she asked, and her eyes told him she truly was concerned for him. “Come on now; let’s get you out of here.”
Liam wasn’t in the right state of mind to argue. She grabbed his hand and led him through the ruckus that was ensuing. Roland was receiving more than a stern talking to, it seemed. The newest member of the oilers wondered if he’d be able to make it out of the tavern before a melee began.
That woman delivered him to safety in mere moments, though. When he was out among the cool evening air, he felt the sting of his injury. The scent of blood was overpowering, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would taste it in the back of his throat.
“I’m so sorry,” the lass said. She reached into her apron and pulled out a rag she would have used for wiping the tables. “I did just what you told me.”
“It’s all right,” he assured her.
As it grew louder in the tavern, she pulled him farther from the building, toward a bench that overlooked the harbor. “It’s not all right. Everyone makes mistakes, but you were trying to make up for yours,” she said. As she sat him down, the barmaid brought up that rag and dabbed it against his nostrils. “I’ve seen him start trouble with just about everyone in there. It’s a wonder he’s still working with the crew after all the fights he’s kicked off.” She sighed as she took her seat beside him. “What about you?”
“Evarice of a first day,” Liam returned, inciting a cute little chortle from her. “Look, you don’t have to stay out here with me. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you kidding me? With everything that’s going on in there right now?” The lass scoffed as she looked back to the tavern. “You’re giving me a good excuse to be out of the fire.”
He smiled, despite the pain. “Glad I could prove useful to someone today.”
“That’s not what I meant!” she protested. Her voice carried over the dock district of the city, and she bowed her head in embarrassment. “Will you be okay?” she asked after the echo of her words faded away.
“Roland practically did me a favor,” Liam said. “I think I’m actually breathing better.”
The bar wench nodded and rose from the bench. She held out her hand and grabbed his when it was offered, tugging him from his seat as well. “I don’t think you should head back in there.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” he asked.
She couldn’t hide a mischievous grin. “You’re definitely a strange one. There’s not too many men I know who grow more confident when they’re punched in the face. And yes…I’m trying to get rid of you. But only for tonight.”
“It’s probably best I don’t head back in there,” he agreed.
“You should definitely come see me again, though,”
she pressed as she drew away from him. “Don’t let what happened in there scare you off.”
“Hey, what’s your name?” he called out.
The barmaid turned, a bright smile separating her lips. “It’s Starla,” she replied. With a skip in her step, she almost seemed to dance back to that rowdy tavern.
Liam, alone by that bench, was left staring as she disappeared inside once more. “Starla,” he repeated and grinned as he thought about how his night had ended.
*****
The lad narrowed his eyes as he peered toward the eastern horizon. Only a small sliver of the sun peeked over the distant water, but it was still bright enough to have him raising his hand to shield his eyes. As he scrunched up his face, he felt the lingering aches from the bruises on his nose and eyes.
“Come on, lads,” Falind said once the gangplank had been extended. “Rig won’t fix itself.” The captain ventured out to the platform as well, which indicated just how important the task at hand was.
Before Liam could take his first steps down that ramp, though, he noticed Roland emerge from the hold. The big man had a few bruises of his own, it seemed, though Liam didn’t venture to stare. He remained behind, just long enough for Roland to take up his place on the platform.
The crew set to work repairing beams damaged by wind and rain and strong waves and replacing the parts of the rig too far gone to be mended. So new to the company, Liam was left to some of that menial work down below while the others above hollered about parts of the machine he wasn’t familiar with yet.
As the sun drew higher into the sky, the light was almost too much to bear. Shades of violet made up that canvas above, and there was a golden reflection in the endless blue to the east.
“Would you look at that,” Liam heard.
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