Chapter 40
Maelstrom
The storm had barely died down when watch duty with Felixion started again. After filling up the Arc with Starshells, we’d only gone half a day’s journey back from Raevar. The sky was still an ominous wall of dark clouds. The storm wasn’t spent yet.
Much like the fragrance after a storm, miasma had a smell to it after rainfall. It was a sickly sweet odor that burned at the edges of my eyes and the interior of my nose. I squinted at the horizon to keep from tearing up.
The earlier downpour had agitated everything that lived in the miasma. Almost imperceptible shadows under the waves darted about, a bedlam of grim monstrosities.
Something formless and large had appeared in the distance two hours ago, and we had altered our course to steer further away from it, but it kept getting larger. We’d changed direction three times since then, to no avail.
It was following us.
And it was gaining.
Several of the crew had gathered on the main deck to see what was coming. Not that you could see much yet.
I held my spyglass up to get a better view of whatever it was, channeling Perception. Seeing anything was difficult in the gloomy lighting.
Whatever manner of creature it was, it was gargantuan. It might be more massive than the entire Arc. Its shape twisted and folded upon itself, like it was made of gas or viscous liquid.
And it didn’t match anything we’d covered in lessons.
Leviathans swim away from Arcs. Krakens are nocturnal, and it’s still daylight.
Sunset was approaching, though.
“Big sonuvabitch,” Felixion remarked, standing beside me as he also peered at it. He may have been a man of few words, but a poet, Felixion was not.
“Yeah.” A whisper of anxiety rose in my gut. The Arc was currently headed away from Mesmoria to try to avoid this thing. The wind was against us. At the speed we were currently traveling, the creature would catch up to us in under half an hour.
We wouldn’t outpace it.
Whatever it was, we were going to have to fight it if it kept stalking us.
I hoped it was a Riftfloat, harmless since it was traveling by itself. Maybe it was just curious about our ship.
“Too dark to see shit,” Felixion groused, setting down his spyglass. The miasma was even darker out here, bordering on pure black. It made it even more difficult to distinguish miasmic life forms from the normal spray. “When the storm breaks, it’ll lose us.”
“I can’t tell what it is, either. But it’s going to catch up if the storm doesn’t give us some cover soon. We need to alert the captain to prepare for combat,” I said. Felixion grunted his agreement, scurrying down the ladder back to the main deck to relay the message.
A distant rumbling of thunder and lightning temporarily lit up the miasma.
About time.
The breeze kicked up, the first few raindrops sliding down my cheeks. The miasma puckered under the diamond droplets, murky vapor slowly rising above it like a funeral veil.
The miasma’s turbidity would obscure the vision of whatever was following us, and the rising strength of the wind would fill the sails to carry us farther. The sails ballooned out, my sense of reassurance rising as they pulled us away from the danger.
The miasma pebbled and roiled as the weather turned, waves curving higher. A strong gust caught me, pushing me back to the other end of the crow’s nest. I braced against it, keeping my gaze on the dark shape moving in the distance.
Was it moving faster?
A sudden buzzing caught my attention. I turned toward it, just in time to instinctively blink against being blinded. Lightning struck the foremast with a thundering boom.
When my vision returned, the foremast sail was in shards, and on fire.
Several people were shouting down below, in pain and panic.
A persistent ringing filled my ears. I shook my head, trying to clear it.
Rain was spewing out like a solid wall now, dousing the blaze.
Specks of glowing and charred wood dotted the mast, and great gaping holes split the fabric of the sail.
It wasn’t safe to stay in the crows nest, but I needed to identify what had been chasing us before I climbed back down. Turning back toward the miasma, I put my spyglass back up, shielding it against the downpour with my other hand.
It was still chasing us. The shape was even closer than before. The storm hadn’t impaired its ability to track us. Instead, it appeared to have agitated the creature.
A tendril of something sinuous distended from the main body.
My stomach dropped.
No.
My mind denied reality. I was just tired, and my eyes were under a lot of stress from miasmic vapor that had risen from the squall.
I strained against the burning in my eyes, concentrating on Perception with as much focus as I could muster. Past the rain impeding my vision, past the wind jostling my hold on the spyglass.
It was a tentacle.
Sweat broke out across my forehead, my heart racing up to a gallup.
It can’t be.
Dread began to roll around like a bramble in my chest.
Rubbing my eyes to alleviate the burning hint of tears, I pressed them tightly closed. I reached for inner calm and managed a shaky inhale.
I had to be sure.
I opened my eyes again.
The form was coming into closer focus as it continued toward us. The shifting mass was tentacles. So many tentacles.
And it was moving faster.
Fear burrowed into me like a tick.
A Kraken was hunting us.
An immediate paralyzing terror locked my limbs. This had to be a nightmare. Shock transformed to disbelief. I pinched myself.
I couldn’t wake up.
“It’s a Kraken.” My breathy rasp was swallowed by the wind. I strained, beginning to scream with rising intensity. “Kraken! It’s a Kraken!”
We’re in the middle of the miasma, past Raevar. There’s no escape.
I shut down that thought, panicking would waste precious seconds. And right now every second counted.
We needed to prepare ourselves before it reached us, or we would die.
I scrambled down the rope ladder, fingers sticky with perspiration and rainwater.
“Secure all running rigging! Everyone arm yourselves!” Brialla shouted.
A swarm of panic set in as I landed on the main deck again.
People were running back and forth, grabbing odds and ends as Brialla barked instructions from the helm.
Crewmates were trying to form a barricade of crates on the side of the Arc facing the Kraken.
Someone else carried up an armful of weapons from below deck.
Georlan was frozen in place by the railing, staring in horror at the approaching shape, Veridiana and Pasha beside him.
“We’re all going to die,” he whispered, trembling.
Before I could blink, Veridiana reached out and slapped him.
“Keep it together! No one’s dying today.
Who’s gonna heal my battle scars if you lose it?
I won’t have this beautiful face ruined like Rosa’s because you were busy pissing yourself.
We’re going to throw everything we’ve got at that abomination, kick its ass, then have drinks to celebrate.
” She grabbed a spear from a nearby barrel and shoved it at him.
Georlan stared at her in shock, expression transforming to resolve as he squeezed the spear.
Where is everyone else?
Zevrial swept out from below deck, strong arms wrapped around a large barrel.
Setting the barrel down, he pulled out a long line of barbed rope from inside it.
He ran to one end of the Arc, attaching it to the framing on that side and draping over the railing edge of the Shadowtide like vicious tinseling.
His movements were precise as he wrapped it around the rails, tying it off again on the other side.
His hands didn’t have a single drop of blood on them, despite the densely packed spines on the barbed rope and the crates that impeded his reach.
A prickling buzz tickled my ears.
Lightning flashed, a second passed, and another boom echoed out across the air.
Zevrial pulled a savage looking bow and quiver from one of the nearby barrels, slinging it over his shoulders and grabbing a sheathed sword in one fluid motion. He looked fierce, like a warrior ripped straight from an ancient war.
His eyebrows slid down as he turned my way. Our gazes locked.
Looking at him was like pouring acid on an open wound. I was still ripped open from his thoughtless words. Raw. Angry. Hurt.
But seeing him again also felt like a splash of cold water, jolting me awake from deep sleep. He looked tantalizingly beautiful, harder and starker than my memory could capture.
I still wanted him. Cared about him.
There were a thousand things I wanted to tell him. It crowded out everything else until all I could hear was a frantic buzzing in my ears as he strode toward me.
“You still owe me a Skinscript,” I said. And why was that what came out of my mouth?
He attached the scabbard to his belt. “If we make it through this, I’ll give you as many as you want.” Something warm moved in his eyes as he stared at me. “We’ll talk it out over some calamari.”
Before I could protest, he leaned in, sealing my lips with his. His kiss was passionate and intense. It was right. I lost myself in the sensation.
But it felt like he was saying goodbye. Like the world was ending. I pressed closer, hands intuitively rising to cup his face, gentling it into something softer.
This isn’t goodbye.
He broke away at last, expression fierce. “I’m not nearly done with you. Don’t die,” his voice was resolute.
Like you can order someone not to die.
A smile clawed its way past my defenses. “I won’t,” I promised.
I hurried over to the stack of weapons, eyeing the selection. It was unlikely that I’d be able to do much damage with a close range weapon. My skill at throwing was spectacularly awful, but with Luck on my side, I might be able to land a single hit. I grabbed a harpoon.
If I had to die today, I would die fighting.
I caught a glimpse of Corra’s red hair heading toward the helm.
“Look out!” Someone screamed.