Heart of the Kraken (Tales from Darjee) (11 page)

Decision made, she swum on. Silver fish darted over the rocky bottom and she swam with them. Her mind shot ahead, should she swim back to her home or explore the ocean? At the thought of returning to her old life, a hollowness settled in her chest, taking up residence where she carved out her heart and left it with Fenton. How could she pick up the strands as though nothing had changed, and yet everything was different? A landwalker held her heart, perhaps she could follow the ship without being captured? At least then, she could be near Fenton even if they could never touched again.

The chain around her waist tugged her backward. She spun, expecting to see the kraken behind her. Nothing. Apart from the smaller fish, she was alone in this stretch of ocean. She picked up the chain and pulled, but it remained firm. Gathering it up as she swam, she chased the silvery strand downward. Far below, the trailing end had wedged itself on an outcrop of the reef. She tugged and then jerked harder but it didn't budge.

Her gills didn't just filter oxygen from the water, they also caught traces of scent. She turned her head as a sharp, metallic bite washed over her sensors. Blood in the water. The depth and dull light made it difficult to see. Off to one side, she saw a large barracuda thrashing its long body back and forth. No, it wasn't the fish moving, it was being pulled and ripped by much larger shapes. Sharks.

Panic rippled through her body but she shoved it back down. The sharks would scent her fear and whatever she did, she didn't want to attract their attention. She fumbled around the rock, trying to find where exactly the chain had imprisoned itself. The links disappeared along a crevice and back out the end. The gap was too narrow for her to put a hand in and pulling on the chain wouldn't dislodge it.

The whipping frenzy moved closer, the sharks circled above her head as they tore the barracuda apart. It no longer moved of its own accord, but danced as the sharks bit and tore away chunks of flesh. A sob climbed in her throat. One predator turned black eyes in her direction and swum close. She held herself still as it passed by, trying to will her lungs to take long, slow pulls over her gills. Her fear would taint the water around her and draw more sharks.

Instead of going back to the dismembered fish, the shark circled. It made big, lazy rings around her position but she knew it would spiral in until its grey flesh would bump her with each pass. Testing if she would attack and strike out like another predator. Or was she prey that would satisfy a hunger stirred up by the pike?

Another shark broke away from the stripped pike to join the first. Ailin scrabbled at the rock, her hands desperate to free the chain. The ore-mancers made the links unbreakable and the reef refused to surrender her. A fingernail tore loose as she tried to thrust a hand down the narrow gap. This time, the sob broke free as she watched a tiny droplet of blood rise from her skin. It dispersed through the water and spread to the sharks above. Their concentric circle narrowed as another joined the first two. Their noses picked up the tiny particles of her blood drifting in the sea.

Death would come quickly. Like the barracuda, she would be torn apart as the sharks fought over her body. She had no weapon, no knife to stab and drive them away. One broke away and cut across the circle. With its flat head it bumped her, knocking her against the rock. The other two opened their jaws, the double row of razor sharp teeth exposed.

She pulled with all her might but the chain held her fast, trapped by the reef. The sharks turned to her and she closed her eyes. She didn't want to stare at their empty black eyes as they shredded her. She braced her body even as she knew she couldn't survive long against their blows. But the first bite never came.

The water churned and buffeted her body. A sharp tang exploded over the taste senses in her gills and filtered through the back of her throat.
Blood
. Sobbing, she opened her eyes. A monstrous shadow protected her. The kraken ripped a shark in two and holding the tail end like a bat between two tentacles, used it to strike another shark. The predator scuttled through the water and shook itself. More pieces of shark floated past Ailin as the creatures went into a frenzy, their senses overloaded by the fresh blood and meat. The predators turned on each other and attacked, blind to the kraken in their midst as it picked them off, one by one, and shredded them to pieces with the razor sharp tips on its tentacles.

Ailin cowered against the rock, making herself as small as possible, trying to curl in a ball. She threw an arm over her eyes to block out the slaughter above. Would the destruction drive the kraken mad like the sharks? Would she be the next victim of its blood lust?

The hard lash of the water calmed and dropped back to a murmur over her skin. A gentle touch slid along her shoulder. Dropping her arm and daring to look, the kraken loomed above her. Its body sheltered her from the chaos beyond and the chum floating on the current. One tentacle reached out to her and it stroked her arm with the flat of its nail. The black eye remained fixed in her direction. It withdrew as far as it dared, without leaving her exposed. The tentacles loosely hung around her.

"I'm trapped," she said, holding up the end of chain and pointing to where it remained lodged in the rock.

The eye rolled and then a tentacle reached out and explored the hard surface. One wrapped around the chain and held it up, out of the way. Two more felt along the seam that held her firm. Another limb inched toward her, a quick touch and it retreated a few inches, as though it sought permission before touching her again. Ailin reached out and patted its rough hide, then the end slid along her waist and it drew her closer to its body.

The arms pounded on the rock, smashing it apart and sending chunks and splinters flying through the water. One piece lodged in its thick skin. When the beast uncurled Ailin, she grabbed the splinter and pulled it free.

"Take me back to the ship," she said. Sadness washed through her limbs. Her freedom was an illusion. She was the fish who swam away with the line, but still remained hooked. With no way to remove the chain, she remained captured, it was simply a matter of time before it became caught again and the sharks found her or some fisherman dragged it up.

Chapter Eleven

Fenton ground his jaw as Ailin was hauled on deck. It wasn't that her hands were empty, he didn't expect her to clutch treasure from the deep. No, it was the way the men stared at her form. The lustful eyes navigating the swell of her breasts and the curve of her waist. He would protect her from them all if only he could.

Reis released the enhanced chain, coiled it around his hand and then shoved it back in the pouch hanging off his belt. "Put it back in its box," he said as he turned his back and strode away.

Fenton bent to pick her up. Ailin buried her face in his neck and cried in his arms as he carried her below.

"I'll never be free," Ailin said in low voice that wavered.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her black hair as he returned her to the crate.

He brushed a kiss to her forehead as she curled in upon herself. He didn't need to ask what happened. He saw through the beast's eyes and knew it responded to her plea and let the chain go, only for her to become trapped and almost fall prey to sharks. Just as he succumbed to her, so did the aquatic demon. Perhaps the kraken could break her free and tear the vessel apart around her?

Fenton wished he heeded Reis' warning, but too late, he realised Ailin had burrowed deep in his mind. Was it the siren's glamour whispering to him? It bothered him he spent so long deprived of free will, unable to make his own decisions. He wanted this thing with Ailin to be his choice, to be real and not an illusion to aid her escape. His first waking thought and the last one before sleep claimed him, were about her; the caress of her hand, the silken brush of her skin, the lilt to her voice and the tilt of her chin when she was deep in thought. With their kiss, he became the drowning man who surrendered to the ocean.

He carried out the captain's orders like an automaton. His body moved but his brain ran a different programme, obsessing over the captured mermaid. That night, as he stood at the bow staring over the moonlit crests of waves, he made a vow. The Razor's Edge would dock at Lusions with Ailin, but it would leave without. He would face Reis and the kraken to ensure she escaped. He no longer cared what they did to him as long as she swam free.

He stood at the prow and stared out at the moonlight kissed water and words bubbled up in his throat. He whispered the poem to the silent night.

The Ocean has its silent caves, deep, quiet, and alone;

Though there be fury on the waves, beneath them there is none.

The awful spirits of the deep hold their communion there;

And there are those for whom we weep, the young, the bright, the fair.

Calmly the wearied seamen rest beneath their own blue sea.

The ocean solitudes are blest, for there is purity.

The earth has guilt, the earth has care, unquiet are its graves;

But peaceful sleep is ever there, beneath the dark blue waves.

All night long, he stayed tucked up against the foremast. The wind buffered his face and he let dreams spin out over the silvery ocean of an impossible reality where he had something to offer Ailin, where the two of them found a common place to co-exist. Where he lived on a deserted island and waded out into the water at dusk to greet his aquatic lover. He imagined a world where the feelings she stirred in him were real and not the product of her nature and desire to escape.

Dawn kissed the water and he rose. Stiff muscles protested his all-night vigil and he stretched his arms up over his head, reaching for the rising sun. Then he headed below to break his fast. He delegated other men to catch fish for Ailin and ensure she spent some time out of her small prison. The rush of emotions through his body was still too raw to face her. Like the coward he was, he slunk away and busied himself elsewhere.

Early afternoon and Fenton stood on the quarter deck and watched the distant shimmer on the horizon solidify and turn into a land mass. The Isle of Illusions. The land mass was shaped like a crescent, two arms ran out to the water and embraced a sheltered harbour with a narrow pass through a rock chain. At the back rose up a now dormant volcano and lush forest tumbled down to the golden sand of the beach.

Ruled by a mad ore-mancer called Zephaniah Nancy who split the island away from the rest of the world and declared it an independent nation. No one knew if he escaped Darjee or if they exiled him, either way, the three nations left him alone. Being neutral territory, not beholden to any rule except himself and situated in the middle of the ocean, the island served pirate and Regulator alike without discrimination.

Nancy turned his power to nature and enhanced the rock and sand. Rumours circulated that he even tunnelled through the volcano to make a secret lair and that deep beneath the ocean, his island had mechanical feet capable of moving it should the need arise. A fantastical air imbued the island, trees and plants were merged with copper, tin and brass and decorated with gems to make enormous sculptures of breath taking beauty. Crazy animals that were part automaton roamed the lush jewelled forest.

A village supported the island and the sailors who docked. A port served both sea bound vessels and airships. Along the beach, towers soared into the air with narrow, winding stairs encased within steel frames. Dirigibles nudged their noses into the tower and were tied off like balloons while far below large ships anchored out in the sheltered bay while smaller ones snuggled up close to the dock.

The Razor's Edge dropped anchor in the bay, away from the other ships. Reis didn't want to risk any nosy treasure seekers slipping on board. It was a curious phenomenon that many sailors were like cats: they hated getting wet and few could swim but they were as nosy as hell and popped up in unexpected places.

"Fenton, Maynard, Dinger," Reis called as the men hauled in the sail and lashed it to the beams. "You're with me. Yusuf, I'm putting you personally in charge of our little pearl. Don't let it slip through your fingers and watch out for any smart bastard trying to climb up the side."

They dropped the jolly boat over the side and climbed down the ladder. Maynard and Dinger sat side by side and took up the oars. Fenton sat in the bow while Reis commanded the stern. Always the black gaze watched him, like a man who suspected he kept a rabid dog on his leash and merely waited for the day it turned against him.

Did the gauntlet the ore-mancers meshed to his arm allow him to read minds? Did he know that Fenton planned to release Ailin? The harbour at Lusions was the perfect place, the ships were hampered by the shallow draft and the rock sea wall that enclosed the harbour. As long as she could clear the narrow entrance, she would be away before they could draw up the anchor. There was even the smallest chance Fenton could escape to another ship before the crew caught and skinned him.

The jolly boat bumped against the pier and they lashed a rope around a bollard and climbed to the creaking timbers that stretched out over the water. As Fenton walked the pier, he steeled himself for what would come when he reached the end. Sure enough, as he stepped from the last timber and his feet scuffed the dirt, the nausea welled up in his stomach. He scowled and fought it down, refusing to lose his dinner like a wet eared whelp on his first day at sea.

"Every time, Mr Fenton," Reis murmured from his side. "One could almost forget you were birthed on land, or perhaps the ore-mancers fished you from the ocean?"