He looked up and noticed the fellow who had caused him so much grief in so little time. Roland strolled down the ramp, leaving just about everyone else in the crew up above. A chill rushed up Liam’s spine, but he steadied himself, swallowing away the tension. When he realized Roland was looking past him, he summoned the courage to spin about and look to see what had caught the big man’s attention.
It was no trick, he realized. To the south, he saw the two ships that made up the rest of the oiling company. But it was the strange lights in the sky that seemed worthy of remark. A rolling collection of greens and purple seemed to come toward them, faster than those boats could sail.
When Liam looked back, he was surprised to see Roland standing so close to him. He stared at the aurora, his hands at his sides.
“I’ve been too hard on you,” he offered. The newcomer furrowed his brow and looked up to the other member of the crew. “I’ve got to work through some of my anger, and I took it out on you.
“Now, what happened the other day and at that bar,” Roland went on, “that was unacceptable.”
Liam bowed his head but didn’t bother to add anything to the conversation.
“But this…” the big man said. “This is a rite of passage.”
Before Liam could contemplate the meaning of those words, he felt the fierce grasp on the back collar of his shirt and another around his belt. The big fellow laughed as he hoisted him higher into the air, and it was all the lad could do to hope his clothes would survive whatever menace Roland was going to inflict upon him.
He was moving forward, airborne, before he realized it. Everything seemed so slow in those moments as he contemplated what had just happened. Was this latest action Roland’s endeavor to be more civil with the newest member of the crew?
That seemed such a minor thought as Liam saw a bucket floating along the water. He couldn’t bring his arms up quick enough to protect himself from that hefty container. With a thud, his forehead collided against it, which left him seeing stars. That pain—the blow against his head and the force of his neck jerking backward—distracted him from the shock of his body hitting the water.
The scent of the oil was powerful—potent enough he could taste it in his mouth.
Roland’s smile was wide and bright. The lad would be steamed, he was sure, but that bit of horseplay would serve well enough as an apology, he was certain.
When Liam sank beneath the water, though, a chill went up the man’s spine. The smile was wiped away, and he realized he had stopped drawing breath. As his brow furrowed, his eyes grew wider.
“All right, boy,” he muttered. “You’ve had your fun.”
But Liam didn’t surface. Beneath the water—that mix of blue and black—he blinked away his stupor. It took several moments for him to realize he was underwater, and terror set in soon after when he understood he was so far from the surface.
He broke into a frantic movement, trying as best he could to swim to safety. He saw the pitch around him, leading up to that light at the aperture. He could even see Roland there looking down, just as worried as he was.
But he gained no ground. It felt as though there was a terrible weight upon him. When he looked down, he realized what would serve as his downfall: The netting he had failed to install those few short days prior was wrapped around his leg. Saturated with water, it had grown heavy and dense. Yet when he reached down to free himself from its grasp, it was too slick to move as he needed it to.
He could hold his breath no longer. A sharp inhalation filled his lungs with water and oil. It felt as though his chest was being stabbed from all angles. But in that next moment, Liam’s throat contracted. He couldn’t draw a breath, even one marred by salt water.
And in that moment, the lad let go of the pain and the fear, and he latched onto anything else that remained. He thought of how embarrassing it was to perish that way—for a sailor to fall prey to the sea so easily. He lamented that he would not be able to discover what could have happened between he and Starla.
It was only when he committed to his fate that his pain ceased. His body went limp, floating ever downward, and he was awash with a peace the likes of which he had not felt before. As he peered up, past the water and to the sky above, he saw that aurora whip across the heavens. Though he was dying, he could not help but allow a smile to stretch across his face.
Roland reached that same conclusion. Fate decreed he had just led a man to his death, and there was nothing he could do to amend that. As the other two ships drew closer, he looked about to see if anyone was upon the platform and had seen his foolish act. No one was there, though, and he was left alone with his guilt.
With nothing but that pit of remorse in his stomach, he hurried up the gangplank to the ship, hoping it would prove to be his sanctuary.
He didn’t notice as the oil on the surface of that water pulled away, down into the depths.
*****
“I just thought he’d been scared off,” Douglas said. “But if what I heard is right, someone might have tried to get rid of him in a more permanent way.”
Kelvin looked to the sea and the beast upon it. “So someone tried to kill him, and he became that?”
“I’m just speculating!” Douglas shouted.
Both of them watched as the nearest of those two shadowy cephalopods brought one of its tentacles into the air. It wrapped it around the center mast of the Lockspark and tugged down, snapping the mast in two. The sailor in the crow’s nest leapt away as his perch tipped over. A cry rang out and was silenced in a matter of seconds when he hit the water.
The railing on the starboard side of the vessel tore apart in an explosion of splinters under the weight of that mast. The kraken’s tentacle fell upon the deck as well, leaving oily residue aboard the vessel.
Edmund’s crews set to work at once, slashing and stabbing at the beast with swords and spears. Crossbows twanged their quarrels, each with their own cadence. Every strike from one of those weapons seemed to pass through the beast.
“Our weapons ain’t doing no good!” one sailor shouted.
Atop the quarterdeck, the youngest two members of the expedition looked on in horror. A third entity emerged from the dark waters, a ship’s length before the bowsprit of the Titan’s Quill.
“He’s grown stronger,” Douglas muttered. “We’re all going to die.”
“You survived before,” Kelvin said. “So will we.” He brought the bow over his shoulder and took aim, and the ring around his pupil glowed golden.
With his focus on the other side of the ship, he didn’t realize another ally had drawn close. Marin placed her hand on the crook of his elbow and swept his arm down.
“Don’t waste your ammunition,” she bade.
“We have to do something,” he said. “We won’t be able to outpace him if we set sail.”
“You’re right,” the Silver Serpent said. “Come with me.”
Kelvin arched an eyebrow as he watched his mentor slide down the bannister to the main deck. She rushed to the main mast and grabbed the lantern that hung from its side. Without delay, she opened the window and held it out to her protégé.
“Quickly now,” she said, “before it strikes.”
It only took a second for him to understand. The lad ignited his arrow in the fire of that lantern and stepped to his side to replace that source of light. As the rain cascaded down, it sizzled against the flickering flame
The third oily creature loomed ever bigger before Edmund’s flagship. It lumbered forward, raising a monstrous tentacle high into the air. Without delay, Kelvin fired his arrow, watching it soar between the rigging. It collided into the huge face of that kraken and ignited, and the flames tore it apart.
A hearty clap landed on the archer’s shoulder. “Keep at it!” his mentor told him.
That wouldn’t be necessary, though, he knew. The massive beast sank back beneath the waves, bested by a single arrow.
Marin didn’t notice that success, however. She r
an to the stairs by the forecastle and scooped up another lantern. As she twisted back around, her feet slipped on the slick surface of the ship. The Silver Serpent could not be stopped, though. She found her balance and proceeded on, back to the other end of the ship. Marin skidded onto the gangplank between the two vessels, desperate to try and put a stop to the carnage taking that ship.
It was only by luck a bit of the main mast survived that initial attack. As that beast’s massive tentacle swung back around, the sailors on the opposite side were able to breathe a sigh of relief when the stump of the mast held further.
The prince ran back to the quarterdeck of the Naiad’s Gift. The lantern Marin had placed on that ship’s main mast dangled from his hand, and he tossed it to Douglas when he drew close.
“Open that up,” he bade.
The other lad didn’t hesitate, but his eyebrow was still arched. “You’ll never be able to make the shot from here. It’s too far.”
“Watch me,” Kelvin said.
The gold in his eyes flickered to life yet again, and once the flame sizzled at the end of the arrow, he leveled his bow. He steadied his breath, waiting for the path to the kraken to clear.
A visceral roar echoed across the waves, louder than any mere mortal could produce. Kelvin ventured to glance farther than the Lockspark and saw the Hornet separating in two. Another beast was on the opposite side of that distant ship, tearing the vessel apart with ease.
It was all the sailors aboard that boat could do to leap into the choppy waters below.
One of those ferocious waves pounded against the back of the ship, and Kelvin worked at keeping his balance but teetered to his side, stumbling toward the stairs. He reached out and grabbed the railing, growling as he realized he had lost his window of opportunity.
Marin rolled beneath the kraken’s appendage, for the beast had learned it would not be able to tear through the mast of the Lockspark. It swept back the other way, throwing sailors skyward or smashing them to the floorboards. That lone silver figure on board jumped high, catching onto the rigging beside the mizzenmast.
While the men she sailed with screamed and begged for what mercy they could find, she brought up the lantern and heaved it off the starboard side of the vessel. It struck the black cephalopod in its head, igniting it at once.
While those on the deck cheered, she tugged her rapier free of its scabbard and leapt from her perch. She came down upon the appendage that still sat upon the deck and severed it all the way across. Free of the rest of the creature, the tentacle spilled to the ship in a puddle of crude oil.
But all was not well. As the rest of the kraken’s arm shuddered backward, it came to a thin point again. It wrapped around Marin’s leg and yanked her off the edge of the ship.
It was only thanks to the quick actions of another that she wasn’t pulled into the depths. Captain Gardner grasped her arm and held fast, slamming his boot into the railing on that side of the vessel. The Silver Serpent’s eyes widened, for she sensed the reach of her mortality. Rid of her sword, there was nothing she could do to assist her savior beyond hold on.
They could both hear the railing protest under the weight of the monster.
The heart of the lad on the nearby ship palpitated faster than it ever had. He inhaled a sharp breath and focused on his mentor, praying his bravado wouldn’t be misplaced. With the flame still dancing on the end of the arrow, he drew back the bowstring.
“New target!” Douglas cried.
Kelvin let his focus wane for just a moment, and the gold around his eye faded. He blinked to align his depth perception and noticed what had earned his associate’s attention. It was not a wave that had crashed against the aft of the Naiad’s Gift; it was another kraken.
It wasn’t enough to steer him away from his original target. The prince gnashed his teeth together and drew back the bowstring even farther. Without his enhanced sight to fall back on, he said a silent prayer his intuition was enough to have the projectile meet its mark.
“What are you doing?” Douglas asked.
The missile was already loosed. It flung through the air, zipping through the rain and past rigging and flying hunks of debris. And just beyond the struggling vigilante and her would-be savior, that arrow plunged into the remnants of the flaming kraken.
Gardner fell back and brought Marin with him, until they were both on the deck of the Lockspark, covered in oil.
Kelvin couldn’t keep his focus there for long. He spun to his side to see the new kraken Liam had summoned. As close as he was to the thing, he was surprised by its size. Douglas ran onward, leaping down the stairs in a single bound, leaving the fellow in green alone, contemplating whether he chose his target wisely.
Another primeval roar echoed out, but it was not formless that time. The cephalopod before him morphed and stretched until its face had a more human distinction, though it was still monstrous to behold. A great maw opened between and below the creature’s eyes, large enough to consume the aft of the ship if it so desired. Instead, it brought up two of those tentacles, and Kelvin knew they could be just as deadly.
Without a lantern in sight, there was no way to send a flame into that monstrous being. The prince backed away, until he bumped into the railing of the quarterdeck. It was too late to escape, he knew. He would accept his fate with dignity.
As those tentacles swept down, he closed his eyes.
He opened them again when he heard a tremendous slam. When he looked up, he was surprised to see the one closest to him resting in midair, close enough to touch, it seemed. The other tentacle thumped against the same place, caught upon some invisible barrier.
Kelvin looked over his shoulder and saw the old advisor there upon the hold. Edmund held his hands out, summoning up an enchantment to offer protection.
“I owe you a debt of gratitude,” the prince declared.
Gritting through the stress of keeping that shield in place, Edmund nodded. “Maybe you do. Not to offend, but part of my thinking was that I wanted to save this ship.”
While the man in green offered a mocking grin, he noticed the other young lad cowering just behind Edmund, propped against the mizzenmast.
“Douglas, I need you over here,” Kelvin called out. “And bring the damned lantern!”
He heard footsteps upon the gangplank and steered his attention there. The two combatants he had saved were quick to return to the Naiad’s Gift.
“It won’t matter,” the Silver Serpent said. “Every time we kill one of these things, another is ready to take its place. We’re outmatched here, and we’re running out of ships.”
The captain of the flagship pushed past Marin, coming up alongside his old friend. “Edmund, is there any magic you can enact to get us out of here?”
“And leave the members of the Hornet to this monster?” the advisor asked.
“We’ll add to that number threefold if we don’t escape,” Gardner said.
Another powerful voice rang over that dissention.
“You think your magic will save you, but mine is stronger,” the voice called out. The lot on that ship heard it emanating from the nearby creature, but it also seemed to carry across the ocean on those fierce waves churning around the ships.
Marin stood on the steps of the quarterdeck and looked to her protégé. “Do you hear that?” she asked. “There’s something else out there.”
“A second voice,” Kelvin surmised.
She nodded. “A more human voice.”
The lad in green straightened as he reflected on her words. Against his better judgment, he stepped toward the grotesque monster that threatened the rear of the ship. He braced himself against the railing at the starboard aft and looked into the distant reaches of the sea. As the gold rim grew around his pupils, he beheld the truth.
“What do you see?” Marin asked from beside him.
Out there amongst the rain and the churning waves, he saw an unmoving surface. A lone figure there stood upon an ebon dais and a black cha
ir sat behind him. Kelvin knew what he looked at: Liam had declared himself the ruler of the sea and those monsters after Edmund’s fleet from the safety of that distant throne.
“I see the real enemy,” he finally spoke. “The man Douglas claimed to see and forgot about is out there.”
“He’s too far to reach with an arrow,” Marin grumbled. “And we’d never reach him with one of these ships.”
Another guttural growl rang from the beast and the person who controlled it. That one echoed with dissatisfaction more than rage, though. As that echo died out, it was replaced with a new sound. Hollow, frightening laughter filled the air.
“You can keep the deck of your ship together if you like,” the kraken—and Liam—roared through the rain. “I have other means.”
At once, everyone aboard the Naiad’s Gift felt the vessel rock violently.
Edmund’s eyes grew wide. “He’s going to try to tear us apart from beneath.”
“Surely he isn’t as powerful beneath the waves,” Captain Gardner said. “We’ll be able to hold, won’t we?”
That question had Kelvin tilting his head. His eyes narrowed, and he clenched his teeth together. “Come on now,” he said, pulling the Silver Serpent along with him. “And get a lantern.”
As the ship continued to rumble under that duress, the lad in green reached the hold and pried open the slippery metal grate. Marin plucked the lantern from the frightened survivor of the Titan’s Quill and met her protégé at the entrance to the hold.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“You’re right; I can’t reach him with a typical weapon. But we’ve got something with a little more oomph.”
Captain Gardner’s eyes were aglow with understanding. “The ballistae!”
“Go,” Edmund said. “Whatever you do, you must do it fast. I’m not sure how much longer this old goat can fend off a monster like this!”
The trio—Kelvin, Marin, and Gardner—made their way below deck and were quick to turn about. They entered the back gallery, where those two ballistae on rails had moved in the violence of the monsters’ attacks. Those weapons were still in good condition, however, and the lad hurried to the one at starboard.
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