CASPIAN
James has a spyglass to his eye while I lean over the rail of the quarterdeck beside him.
My forearms rest against the worn wood as I look out across the crystal-blue waters.
For the most dangerous place in the world, it sure is stunning.
The waters are calm and so vibrantly blue it nearly blends in with the clear blue sky above.
But I know looks are deceiving—the weather changes up here in an instant, and while the sun is shining, the temperature is still freezing.
But that’s the Straights. Alluringly dangerous, it is a continuously shifting landscape in the freezing cold waters of the north; the gateway to the Stormwrack that is nearly impossible to navigate consistently.
The sandbars shift in the channels creating inconsistent depths and what could have been the route last time someone sailed through could be completely different a few hours later.
Storms are frequent, tides are strong and tricky to predict, and to top it all off, it’s Kraken territory.
“I’m assuming you have some tried and true plan on how to get through the Straights unscathed?”
James glances at me before returning the glass to his eye.
“There is no tried and true way.”
“How have you managed to do it successfully so many times?”
“A lot of luck and a lot of rum.”
“So it’s true then,” I grin. “About the Kraken?” Common lore states the Kraken have an affinity for rum, but I never knew whether or not that was true.
“Aye, we bribe them with rum.”
He strides down the steps, calling to Harrison. “Pull out several barrels from the rum stores.”
I follow after him as we head towards his quarters. “It’s as simple as that? Luck and rum?”
“It seems to distract them long enough,” Blackwell answers. “We need favorable winds and hope the sandbars haven’t shifted too badly to close the channels—but aye—they like rum.”
“So you’re saying that’s kind of the least of our worries—” We enter his cabin and he immediately whirls on me, shoving the door shut. He backs me into the wood.
“I’m done talking about the Kraken.”
A smirk pulls at my lips as his body presses against mine. “Fine, I have another tentacle we could talk about, Captain.”
James groans at my terrible joke, dragging his lips across my jaw. I open my mouth but his hand grabs between my legs and I jump against him.
“You’re about to choke on one if you keep talking.”
“There are worse ways to go,” I chuckle.
The kiss gets heated—he always takes over my senses so completely. I’m about to push him over to the bed when there’s a knock. I growl against his lips and lean my head back against the wood.
“Damn it all to hell,” I grumble. “Everyone always needs something on this damn ship.”
He gives me a ghost of a smile, yanks me into him for one more searing kiss, then hauls open the door. It’s of course, Harrison. The bane of my existence. I’m starting to think he interrupts on purpose.
“We’ve sighted one three hundred yards off the bow and closing fast.”
That gets us moving. We rush up to the deck and Van thrusts a spyglass into my hands as I come up alongside him on the rail.
“Due east,” he says.
But it’s unnecessary, as I can see the wrinkle of water as it swims towards us.
“Dump the rum!” Blackwell barks.
Harrison repeats the order and a barrel of rum is tipped open over the edge. The amber liquid splashes into the surf and once the barrel is empty, the entire thing is tossed in. I put the spyglass back to my eye to see the creature’s wake cutting across the still surface.
“Trim the sails!” Blackwell shouts. “Get us out of the area!”
The deck bursts into a flurry of activity and the ship lurches as we catch a breeze and sail away from where the rum was dumped .
“Current?” Blackwell asks.
He’s standing next to me again, spyglass in hand.
“Southwest, Captain,” Van answers.
“Depth?” He calls out.
Two of his crew are hanging over the railing near the bow with sounding lines dropping down into the surf.
“Twelve fathoms!”
The sea roils as the rum attracts more Kraken and I catch a glimpse of shiny scales and iridescent skin. A loud crack rents the air as a tentacle wraps around the rum barrel and crushes it into tinder. I can feel the heaviness of the crew as the reality of our situation takes hold.
“Storm clouds on the horizon!” A shout from the rigging has us all turning to regard the looming mass of ominous grey.
“Rapidly losing depth, Captain!”
Van quickly takes up a position near the depth finders, within shouting distance to the man at the helm to help us navigate, and we soon sail out of sight of the writhing mass of creatures.
“Off the stern!” Another barrel of rum is offloaded.
“I hope we have enough rum,” I mutter.
A shout comes from the other side of the ship and I turn to see a massive tentacle easing over the rail.
It’s huge, easily as thick as the mast of the ship and an iridescent dark blue that shifts into purple as it twists in the sunlight.
A multitude of suction cups line the underside, helping it latch onto us.
“Fuck—they’re curious today—” Blackwell growls.
He runs down the quarterdeck steps, shouting for Harrison.
“Harrison, spears!”
Harrison tosses him a spear and they race towards the Kraken rapidly extending itself as it curiously pokes around the ship.
Wood groans and creaks as it puts weight on our starboard side.
Harrison and Blackwell move together, stabbing the tentacle until it retreats—only to have to dodge the onslaught of several more.
One catches Blackwell across the stomach and he crashes against the mast. The tentacle pins him there while another snakes up onto the deck towards Harrison.
I’m moving, cutlass in hand. Harrison tries to get to him but is sent flying as he’s batted away.
I reach Blackwell who is now struggling to breathe.
The Kraken has him wrapped around the mast with his arms pinned at his sides.
I hack at the tentacle. Blue blood gushes from the wounds, slimy and gelatinous.
It falls to the deck, causing the ground to become dangerously slippery .
“Watch out,” James gasps.
I turn, but don’t have time to move before another tentacle comes for me. Thank God it’s a smaller one than the one pinning Blackwell, but it still takes my breath away as it hits my side. I’m tossed a few feet away, landing hard on my hip.
There’s a shout from the other side of the deck as another Kraken slinks over the rail. A greyish-green arm wraps around a crewmember and before he has time to do anything it whips him up in the air. I don’t have any breath to curse as I struggle to my knees.
The Kraken slams him down angrily on the deck, again and again until the man is a crushed bloody mess.
I stagger to my feet and rush back to Blackwell, attacking the tentacle with renewed vengeance.
It falls convulsing to the ground and Blackwell heaves in air, clutching his ribs with one arm and turning to see the destruction on the other side of the deck.
“Fuck—” His voice is a whisper as he heaves in air. “Sail into the storm.”
“Drop another rum!” I shout. “Trim the main! Get us into that storm!”
Men rush to obey the orders and I shove Blackwell aside just as another tentacle comes for us. It slams into the deck where we’d been standing, easily the thickness of a man. I run to the rail and look down into the water. The surface is foaming but I can see the shadow of the beast just beneath.
“I need a bow!” I shout. “Someone get me a fucking bow and quiver!”
Flynt rushes over and shoves a bow and half a sheaf into my hands.
I quickly notch, pull and release. The tentacles all twitch as my arrow embeds in the Kraken’s mantle.
I immediately launch another two in quick succession before I lunge away; all of the arms come for me at once.
I roll towards the bow of the ship and jump up; notching another I lean over the rail and let it fly.
The ship lurches as the tentacles fall away and we shoot forward.
The sky has darkened and rain hits the deck, pattering on the canvas above my head. I move away from the rail but something slams into my back and I crash into the foremast. Stars explode across my vision and I slump down to the deck, fighting to breathe.
The wind whips through the sails as we approach the storm. The deck pitches and I slide towards the rail as we tip starboard. I’m on my hands and knees, the vertigo hitting me hard. I scramble to grab hold of anything but just before I hit the rail, strong arms grab me and haul me to my feet.
“To the rigging! Strike all canvas!” Blackwell bellows hoarsely against the wind.
I’m struggling to take a full breath, but at least the vertigo recedes as we stumble through the rain. He’s clutching me tightly as we move towards the door to the cabins. He fists my shirt as he yanks me close so I can hear him over the wind.
“Get below deck!”
“Fuck that—” I wheeze and shake him off, making it clear I’m not going anywhere.
“Captain!”
Blackwell grits his teeth as Harrison calls him from the quarterdeck.
“Go!” I shove him towards the steps. “I’m good—get us out of this, Captain!”
I grab a rope for balance as Blackwell glares at me once more, and heads up the steps where Harrison is battling the currents at the helm.
I glance up at the rigging—the men are struggling with the sails but managing.
I’m hearing depth readings being called out as best as they can be read during a squall.
This storm isn’t as bad as the previous ones on open water—the shallow Straights make the waves less like mountains—but the worry here is getting run to ground.
If we hit the sandbar, we’re basically fucked.
The waves would pound us into driftwood.
I inhale deeply, my side protesting. I don’t think anything is broken but it still hurts like a bitch.
The deck pitches, throwing me off balance as I follow after Blackwell towards the quarterdeck.
Like hell am I going below until I know we’re safely out of this—until I know he’s safely out of this.