King Tides Curse

by C J Timms

  ‘He’s on some sort of covert ops list, impossible to know where he is. I know he has answers about my dad, about all of this. I need to find him in person. I can’t exactly leave a message on a desk, excuse me what do you know about my dad's murder and the Blood Knight.’

  Gale shoved the chair away and stood. He was wasting time.

  ‘Take a moment Gale.’ Liam said.

  ‘I’m going out hunting. I need to find answers.’

  ‘You need to rest.’ Liam said putting a hand on his shoulder

  ‘I can rest when the Blood Knight is dead. My dad wouldn’t have rested. He would have fought to the last breath.’ Gale said, brushing off the hand.

  Liam shoved him back into the wall. ‘You look like shit. Go home.’

  ‘Piss off you’re not my dad.’ Gale said

  Liam’s scaled hand let go of his shoulder. Gale looked away, Liam was hurting too.

  Liam walked to the border of Ironchurch’s curse stones. ‘I have fought men and monsters. I remember fighting beside your father and Ironchurch. You think that your father sacrificed himself to save you, so you have always tried to live up to his example. That it's okay to sacrifice yourself for the good of others.

  What if he burnt himself out so that you wouldn’t have to?

  What if instead of following his example you learned from it?’

  Gale walked to the door, and he looked back, resting one hand on the frame.

  ‘I can’t just sit here while Ironchurch dies. I can’t go and sit exams while Ironchurch wastes away. I need to be out there hunting.’

  Liam was silent for a moment. He held the bone coral pendant of the Dredgers and turned it over in his hands. ‘Do you know Ironchurch didn’t name himself? His grandmother gave him that name. He wasn’t named for this bar or for how much he loved his biceps. He was named for his faith. When I faltered, when I fell, he kept faith in me.

  Now have faith in him, Gale. He will not lose this battle so easily.

  You will face a choice Gale, and all fracturesmiths do eventually. It's not just about getting paid to do a job or doing it for the greater good. Its a question of whether you burn out or retreat. Do you put more value on your own life or the life of others?

  There is no easy answer, each comes to his own in the forge, in the test of mettle.’

  Liam shrugged. ‘I too read Lifting Great Weight.’

  Sterling sat on his bed playing an old NES that he’d rigged up to work with augmentation. Titus snored away like a misfiring tractor in the next room. On his bed a gold-leafed letter with the symbol of House Solvent lay, read and re-read.

  ‘I know you’re there,’ he called out without looking away from the screen. ‘Might as well come out.’

  Calumny strode around the front of his television. Calumny still rocked the goth look with black jeans, jacket and a fringe covered over one eye. Tiny skulls adorned her coat. Her body was made of interlocking metal pieces like a blacksmiths toy or a lego man. Her eyes downcast, her shoulders slumped, she avoided his gaze.

  ‘You train to hunt your enemies, this is good.’ She flicked her fringe.

  ‘You want to tell me your name.’ Sterling said, continuing to play the game.

  ‘You can call me Calumny,’ she said to her boots.

  ‘What are you exactly.’ Sterling said.

  ‘I am a knife in the shadows. The hunter of the eldritch. The purger of heresy. What you should be asking, however, is what we are?’ She held a dagger up at him without looking away from the floor.

  ‘We are toy soldiers in an army of the desperate. We break and we get discarded.’

  Calumny raised her eyes to meet his.

  ‘Eventually, we all fall down.’

  Sterling paused the game and squatted in front of Calumny. This creature was like one of the fae from Siegfried’s tales. Sigfried, the nutjob of the family, had been filled with stories of companions, spirits and other rubbish. They were fickle, they granted wishes with a price, never giving quite what you asked for.

  He picked her up by the back of the neck, and she squawked. Calumny swung her daggers at his fingers, and the blow drew blood. Sterling dropped her in a box atop the television with his Ameebos and crammed a bandaid on his fingers.

  ‘You can stay there until you’re not such a gloomy gus.’ He said, returning to his game.

  ‘Sterling you pick me up now, I am the night, I am the hunter in the shadows.’

  Sterling shrugged.

  ‘I know what you are thinking about doing Sterling, and you are better than that, you have become better than that.’

  Sterling’s eyes flicked back to the letter on his bed, engraved with the symbol of the beaker with gold coins.

  Our price is gold.

  Sterling turned up the volume. He would have an adult conversation when Calumny was ready, and he did not need teenage melodrama. He went back to making a cartoon plumber jump barrels thrown by a giant ape.

  Someone had to act like an adult around here.

  Blood and Rust - Feeding minnows

  ‘Did you read the Gretchen Rubin book I gave you? Better than before?’ Rust asked. Rust stood upside down on the underside of the surface of the water. The first, most superficial layer of the Trench stretched out above him as he walked beneath the waves. The sky was below him, darting packs of skyfish swooped through the air underneath him.

  He tossed bread chunks down to the surface of the water and skyfish swooped down to feed. The waterlogged bread snapped up as the skyfish fought for the scraps. One got greedy and was torn apart by the others.

  Red tossed the other half of the bread to the Skyfish. It was impossible to see Red’s face beneath their helm, but he was absolutely sure however that Red’s eyes rolled.

  ‘I don’t need to break bad habits. I am a creature of tradition, like my father and his father before him.’ Red said.

  ‘Are you sure, not even the chapter on de-cluttering? Good habit formation is a recipe for success.’ Rust said.

  ‘You keep playing leader Rust. The rest of us are busy taking care of the family.’ Red said.

  Rust sighed and turned back to the pack of skyfish, scattering more bread. An occasional flake of metal broke off his armour and mixed with the feedstock. Rust threw the last chunk of bread onto the surface of the water.

  Feed the fish [X]

  He and Red pushed off the surface and descended into the depths. They passed through the layers of the Trench. They dived past Inertios, the fetid stagnant water a murky cloud. Past a layer of maddening chaos, where songs of the damned echo through the water and the currents swirled into half-glimpsed truths. Past his layer of Faultstad, where the depths slowly devoured a collapsed city.

  Down they went, till Rusts feet hit the ground on Red’s layer. The red-stained sands of this layer of the Deep, Exsanguine. Scarlet sand scattered under his feet. His landing created an impact that rippled outwards.

  ‘We’ll need to swing by the garden. It needs watering.’ Red said.

  Water the garden [ ]

  They walked into the capital city of Exsanguine, a hive that had grown on a massive underwater mountain. The mountain at the centre of it covered in slabs of rock big enough to have shipwrecks wedged between them. Every type of vessel was lodged there from Greek triremes to ironclads and even aircraft carriers.

  All kinds had been called to rest in Exsanguine.

  Around the mountain had formed a hive built of wreckage and sea vines. Wherever a ship’s wreckage had landed, vines, coral and plant life had taken over, forming buildings, homes and businesses. Yet the vines showed bite marks where they had been gnawed at.

  The pale residents of the hive slunk between buildings, thin, worn down and snapping at one another. Sirens, with their haunting beauty, scrapped over food. A few fathomless paced the streets. Blood leeches hung upside down from coral platforms, their size as small as his palm or as big as him. Yeti crabs scuttled from their path.

  The city moved at an anae
mic pace. Fatigue sheltered on every face or in the slow scuttling of claws. Exsanguine was a city starved of food.

  ‘Did you try the productivity legislation I suggested?’ Rust asked.

  Red halted. ‘My people are hunger personified. They are the jaws of the Deep, the swarm that devours worlds.’

  Rust nodded, ‘Aye and they’ll work harder if you pay them under a sliding tax scale. You’ve seen the empire I’m building in New Ionhome. Faultstad will become the shining jewel in the crown of the Deep.’

  Red shook her head.

  They halted at a statue. A statue worn down over twenty years. The facial features blurred, Rust rested a hand on it. The only woman he’d truly loved, the woman his brother had discarded.

  Red had also paused, staring up at a ship lodged in the mountain, the ‘Red Sky’. A long-dead skeleton was nailed to the mast, spared at least the fate of those fed to the reef.

  The reef was a sprawling expanse of blood-red coral. Nearby a group of siren’s harvested the blood coral and then tore into it. They were shoving the red flora down their gullets before being pushed away by the overseer. One of the siren’s leapt at the overseer but was cut down with a teardrop-shaped blade. The siren, having broken the law of hunger, was thrown onto the reef as well. The coral shifted, spikes twisting to tear into the new prey. The siren let out a scream as the coral leeched her dry.

  Feed the garden [X]

  Red ate a muesli bar, staring at her garden. One of the overseers dragged a groggy sailor from a line of prisoners. The sailor was thrown into the reef. The sharp coral impaled the man, and he tried to scream. The Deep magic kept him alive without oxygen, let him scream without air. Red reached into their cloak’s pockets and threw four bone-white coral pendants into the reef. Rust nodded in appreciation.

  Give the dredgers what they earned [X]

  Then he hesitated, it was premature to tick that off yet, still a few to go.

  Give the dredgers what they earned [ ]

  Blood red coral stretched out for miles. The coral was jagged, growing up in grim spikes. From those spikes, men hung like morbid scarecrows. Their blood slowly swirled from the spiked injuries drifting from their veins in crimson swirls that settled on the reef.

  In the centre of the garden, high above the rest of the scarecrows, a figure was crucified on a massive spike. Older than the others, a broad-brimmed hat hung over their face. The figures beard grown long and muscles withered. A faint swirl of crimson still fell from their wounds, the coral keeping its victim alive, even as it fed. A hammer lay, just out of reach, bound within a growth of coral in the shape of a fist.

  What madness would they know after an eternity of this?

  Rust sipped his coffee. He’d mastered the art of drinking in the deep after twenty years. Magic had its uses. ‘It's a good crop this year.’

  ‘Aye, but we need more rain.’ Red said.

  ‘What will man do to feed his starving family?’ Red asked. ‘My family is hungry Rust. It has been so long since they fed properly. They feed on each other while they wait for your plan to come good. They've been scraping away at the Arghost for months. Your plan better work.’

  Rust scratched the back of the head and came to the final item on his to-do list for today.

  Save the world [ ]

  Soon, he thought. Soon.

  Rust looked up at the swarm of Skyfish that had gathered from their feeding. A massive tentacle shot up from the mountain covered with shipwrecks and snared the pack of Skyfish from the surface, pulling them back below. A crimson rain from the surface fell towards them.

  The Vrachos was hungry.

  Gale/Swan - Spring Formal

  ‘With final breath, he slew the beast and rose to join the gods.

  Forgetting the cares of man, both kings and drunken sods.

  Yet Addison still knew hunger, as only lovers can.

  He visited just one more time, for a kiss from fair Roxanne.’

  Banned drinking song from Ionhome

  VB tinnies littered the Lighthouse common room floor. Gale swirled his drink, pondering. The Winter Formal wouldn’t know what hit it, Titus Mangrove was wearing a flannelette suit. Not the ratty flannelette that he was so fond of but something that looked, well, elegant. He looked like English nobility, apart from the throatie beard, that had admittedly been wrangled into a semblance of formality.

  ‘See what you want for a formal is a good old fashioned bonfire, a coupla camp chairs and a few slabs.’ Titus said. ‘Some rissoles, some snags and you’re set. It's cheap, it's fun, and you don’t need to wear a suit.’ Titus wrestled with his tie and then threw his hands up in the air.

  Gale straightened Titus’s tie. ‘Ah but Titus, you’re taking a lady to fine dining. Isn’t that what a man of honour does?’

  Sterling clapped Titus on the back. ‘Plus you scrub up well in a suit. Don’t want to disappoint the Bookwyrm.’

  Titus blushed. ‘Well…yeah. She’ll be right.’

  Sterling offered Gale a hip flask. ‘A palate cleanser, Reef knows that VB loses its sting after the first two.’ Sterling said.

  Titus raised a tinny in salute. ‘That’s why you keep pushing through Sterlo. It comes back around by number six. That’s just science that is.’ Titus said and belched. It echoed through the chambers of the Lighthouse.

  Gale sniffed the hip flask, bourbon of some sort.

  ‘This is a single run brewed by my uncle Sigfried in 1985.’ Sterling said. ‘My family used to run a small brewery. Sigfried was fond of telling the family they could better themselves. Full of great plans was Siegfried.’

  Gale took a swig, and it burned down his throat. He coughed and spluttered, his palate definitely cleansed.

  ‘Wasn’t much good at brewing rum though.’ Sterling said.

  Yip sipped a soda water with ice. He had a deep navy blue suit that was too short at the wrists and too tight in the shoulders.

  ‘Come on Yip have a bevvy with the boys.’ Titus said, throwing Yip a VB. Yip held it up and looked at it with narrowed eyes.

  Yip shook his head. ‘I’m not a big drinker.’

  Titus held a beer up in the air. ‘To the boys…and to those not present.’

  ‘To those not present.’ Gale and Sterling said.

  Yip hesitated then cracked the VB tinny. ‘To those not present.’

  They strolled down to the docks, a slight sway to their stride, finishing their pre-drinks. The crisp spring air whipped past them, refreshing and playful. The trees of the island were showing the first blush of green and pink blossoms.

  Airships crowded the docks, rickety wood and canvas affairs, sleek pleasure cruisers and even military troop transports. Lines of students crowded airships departing for the formal.

  Ash waited looking out over the sea atop the hill, the waves crashing beneath her. She waved from atop the hill and strolled down to greet them. She wore a royal blue dress tied at the waist with a large bow. A single large sapphire hung from her neck down her chest, drawing attention to all the right places.

  Sterling elbowed him forwards. ‘Try the compliment I told you.’ Sterling said.

  Gale walked up to her his mouth dry. She looked damn good. He’d never seen Ash in formal wear. She usually favoured sneakers and jeans.

  ‘Ash, you look good.’ Gale said. Sterling gave him a thumbs up.

  Titus shouldered past Gale. ‘Titus Mangrove, how the bloody hell are you.’ Titus grabbed her hand in two of his and shook furiously. ‘Are you sure you’re Gale’s date? You are punching well above your weight mate.’

  Ash chuckled.

  ‘Sterling Secondus.’ Sterling offered her a bow and a peck on the cheek.

  ‘And you must be Yip.’ Ash said to the final member of their party. Yip nodded. He stared at Ash, cocked his head, and his nose crinkled slightly. He flicked his eyes to Gale and back to Ash. ‘Yes, pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Now how is it that a dashing group of gentlemen and scholars like yourselves don’t
have dates?’ Ash asked.

  ‘Yes, on that topic,’ Sterling said and elbowed his way through a crowd of students. Jean was signing autographs in the middle of a crush of students. She looked vibrant in a flowing golden ball gown, and her long hair fell loose around bare shoulders. Bruises still showed on her cheek beneath the makeup. She still looked breathtaking. Sterling settled an arm around her waist and steered her back towards the group.

  ‘It's so soft,’ whispered the Bookwyrm, having snuck up beside them. The Bookwyrm rubbed the hem of Titus’s suit between her fingers. The Bookwyrm wore a rainbow-striped dress that glowed faintly, giving her an ethereal look.

  Sterling nudged Gale.

  ‘Jean, you look good.’ Gale said.

  Jeans hand unconsciously twitched to her face. They still hadn’t caught the remaining members of the Unbroken. Charlemagne’s elite guards still swept the city looking. No one had come to question Swan, at least not that they’d heard of. The protection of House Laurels perhaps, or maybe Jacobian Swan.

  ‘Our chariot awaits.’ Sterling said gesturing to a rickety wood and canvas airship. At least it wasn’t crowded.

  ‘All aboard. Next stop, Celesta Firma.’

  The castle danced through the sky. The castles dance was no energetic rumba, nor a bass-thumping banger, no this castle waltzed through the clouds, strong and sure. The castle's dance partners were winged snakes, griffins and butterfly swarms. They moved in a choreographed dance through the endless cloudscape of Celesta Firma. No earth, no stars. Just the infinite cloud.

  ‘Well it's not quite paints and pinot, but you sure pick a good date night Gale.’ Ash said, putting a hand on his arm.

  ‘Your pick next, try to impress me.’ Gale said, winking and leaning into her shoulder. Their airship rattled to a stop, he took her hand and led her towards the Dancing Castle.

  The castle, outside and inside, was made of crystal and hollowed out from one solid piece of phenomenal size. The floor covered with carpet for traction. A massive chocolate fondue fountain dominated the entry hall. The chocolate flowed down into a pool next to a champagne fountain where the liquid glowed white. Floating orbs shaped like clouds lit the room. Truly this was a relic of the gods. It was now being rented out, so teens could cut their teeth on cheap champagne.