PROLOGUE WE’VE GOT THIS
Prologue
We’ve got this
‘What’s that?’ Gwen stood by the railing of the ship, peering down at the night-dark sea below, sword in her hand.
Beyond her, on the horizon, the sun was rising. Silhouetted by the light, a flock of geese sputtered along, wheezing asthmatic protests against the dawn. The indigo sky had given way to porcelain, and the sleepy little harbour town was still.
It all seemed rather idyllic, really.
And yet, Gwen’s voice held the sharp, low competence it only had when she was getting ready to stab something.
Isobelle exchanged a quick glance with their captain, Henry.
In truth, the Elizabeth was his father’s ship, and he’d agreed to take them out in a fit of youthful rebellion after every other ship owner had looked at them like they were lacking in wits.
Henry was now looking as though he was regretting his choices.
Isobelle hurried over to join her champion.
It took her a moment to find her focus, but then she saw it. The deep blue beneath them was growing the tiniest bit deeper in shade; something was moving within it. Then the sea swelled, a ripple rising like blown glass into the watery morning light.
Isobelle grabbed at Gwen’s arm, for silhouetted through the displaced water was the creature they had come for.
Long, sinuous, serpentine.
‘You should have stayed ashore,’ Gwen whispered.
‘Nonsense,’ Isobelle whispered in reply, and then wondered why she was keeping her voice down. Surely it couldn’t hear them. ‘We’ve got this.’
The creature erupted into the sun, sending a great spray of seawater glittering into the air as it reared up.
It was like a massive snake, easily as long as the ship, rising from the waves to grope about in search of prey.
Coral red in the early light, its body was covered in strange, raised spots larger than dinner plates.
Gwen pulled her sword from its scabbard, and Isobelle skittered back to give her room to work, fumbling for the scroll borrowed from Lord Bingleton’s library and stowed in her belt.
Her lady knight looked so slender, suddenly, in an unfamiliar leather breastplate – steel would drown her in an instant if she fell into the water – and for just the briefest moment, Isobelle wondered if this had been a good idea.
She began scanning the scroll for mentions of sea serpents.
And then a second serpent – no, not a serpent, a second tentacle – burst from beneath the water and swept around to slam straight into Gwen, lifting her high into the air.
Someone shrieked – possibly Isobelle – and she scrabbled at the scroll, while she prayed that the author of the Greate Bigge Guide to Beastes had known what they were talking about.
‘It says—’ she began, but the words were drowned out by Gwen’s streak of curses as the thing waved her around like a cheerleader’s streamers at a tourney.
Isobelle adjusted her pitch and volume to that of a town crier and began again. ‘It says,’ she bellowed, ‘to aim for its mouth.’
Gwen careened sideways, no longer above the deck of the ship, but above the glittering expanse of water where the creature made its home. She did at least still have hold of her sword, which was truly admirable under the circumstances.
‘What?’ she screamed, though Isobelle wasn’t entirely sure whether the exclamation was due to an inability to hear, or disbelief.
‘Aim for the mouth!’ she shouted. ‘Between the teeth! Or …’ She squinted at the scroll. ‘Actually, I’m not sure they are teeth …’
The suggestion was not well received.
‘Oh, sure, no problem,’ Gwen yelled back with agonising sarcasm, pausing as the great tentacle reversed direction and swung her around in a broad arc. ‘Just tell me where the fuck its mouth is, and I’ll get right on that. I—’
The monster plunged her beneath the waves, then lifted her once more, her body streaming water, both hands gripping the hilt of her sword.
The dawn light rendered her golden, and even with her black locks plastered across her face, she looked magnificent, though her pale skin was perhaps a little green.
‘Henry,’ called Isobelle. ‘We may need to become involved.’ When their captain did not reply, she twisted her head to look for him.
He was a handsome young man with brown skin the same shade as his ship’s timbers, but all that was visible of him right now was a shock of dark curly hair – he was hiding behind the ship’s wheel.
Above, Gwen braced herself against the fleshy, quivering band of red tentacle circling her body, and lifted her sword.
Then Gwen found her moment, and she swung.
The sound of her blade slicing through the great tentacle was an awful, squelching shnnk. The severed limb released Gwen as both she and it flew through the air in a slow arc, and Isobelle heard herself screaming.
Gwen collided with the sail and began to slide down it – somehow she jabbed her sword through the fabric and hung on to it with both hands as a long, awful ripping sound slowed her descent.
Isobelle dropped the scroll, racing to meet her champion as she plummeted towards the deck.
Gwen landed, staggered, and Isobelle got an arm around her to stop her from collapsing.
‘Argh,’ said Gwen, letting out a gasp. ‘My knees.’
‘They were magnificent,’ Isobelle babbled. ‘All of you was!’
Gwen regained her balance, and Isobelle reluctantly let go, reaching up to smooth a soaking lock of hair back from the other girl’s face.
Gwen touched her hand, but her eyes were troubled, and she moved gingerly to grip the rail at the edge of the deck. When Isobelle joined her, it was in time to see the stump of the severed tentacle subsiding beneath the foaming, turbulent surface of the sea.
‘Did you kill it, Sir Gwen?’ came a quavering voice from their left. They both looked over, and saw Henry, still crouching behind the wheel.
‘No,’ said Gwen slowly, her eyes scanning the surface of the water, her lean body tensed and ready for action.
As if the cursed thing had heard her, the coral-red tentacles erupted suddenly from the water, two of them encircling the ship in a timber-creaking bear hug, another flailing furiously at the torn sail.
And yet another came swinging straight for them.
Gwen shoved Isobelle clear. As she sprawled on the deck, Isobelle’s skirts wrapped themselves around her legs as if determined to make her fight her own tiny battle.
She thrust her way free of them, scrambling down the length of the deck on all fours, snatching up the scroll before the wind whipped it off and into oblivion. Grabbing at the rail, she ducked as another tentacle swung overhead.
It grabbed Gwen, sweeping her up into the air once more, and this time, in its fury, the monster showed itself in all its full horror.
A huge dome of angry crimson and coral rose from the sea, streaming water. The colours swirled inside its skin, dizzying, as beautiful as they were sickening. Isobelle heard it roar – no, that was the ship, its timbers groaning like a dying man as the monster squeezed it.
The thing moved, its head tipping back as it rolled, revealing a horrific pit of teeth, a yawning maw opening directly beneath Gwen.
The eye nearest Isobelle opened, bright gold, with an alien slash of black laid across it.
It fixed on Gwen.
Gwen started to swing her sword and then froze, staring down into the creature’s massive eye. Her body stiffened – her strength seemed to drain out of her.
Something was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong.
Isobelle only had time to register that thought before watching, in frozen horror, as Gwen’s sword dropped from her nerveless hand, turning end over end as it fell.
Perhaps, dear reader, now is the appropriate moment to explain to you how our heroes find themselves in this less-than-ideal position.
Let me assure you, I do not pause the narrative here in order to torture you, or to build dramatic tension; I am far too skilled a storyteller to resort to such cheap and manipulative tricks.
It is, quite simply, imperative to see the road Gwen and Isobelle have travelled in order to fully understand what is now taking place. There is more afoot than meets the eye.
Our story truly begins a few weeks earlier … well, more properly, it began months ago, in a little county in Englande called Darkhaven, but with that you are familiar.
Gwen, our lady knight. Isobelle, our knight’s lady.
They fight monsters, and they’re in love.
Well, they fought a dragon, once. And while they are in love, they haven’t discussed that fact with each other, and neither one wants to be the first to bring it up.
So let’s go back a little ways, and see what Lady Isobelle of Avington and brave Sir Gwen have been up to, since last we saw them …