“Storms. And so far, Majesty, we are doing just fine on that account. I’ve never seen a calmer sea. We could actually do with a little wind.”
The ship rocked suddenly, violently, as if it had scraped its hull against an underwater mountain, barely clearing the highest peak. The boat righted itself and the sailors hugged the masts and rails, peering into the sea to ascertain the threat. Pascal shouted down into the hold for a damage check.
“What are we hitting?” Kjell shouted, dragging Sasha back from the rail. She’d tumbled to the deck and immediately risen again, clinging to the side, trying to see what they’d struck.
The sailor in the crow’s nest, hanging on with one hand while he searched the water with his spyglass, peering through the innocuous lapping, yelled back at him. “Not a damnable thing! There’s nothing there.”
The ship across the way was perfectly upright one moment, and the next, sailors were screaming, the sails tipping. The stern came completely out of the water, sending a few men overboard, and two enormous tentacles—knotted and pocked and as thick as tree trunks—curled around the long bowsprit extending from the vessel’s prow.
“Architeuthis!” Pascal bellowed just as the lookout from the crow’s nest began shouting the same thing.
They watched in horror and helplessness as the giant squid, wrapped around the front of the other ship, began to draw it downward. Shouts and screams accompanied bodies tumbling across the decks and into the sea before the bowsprit snapped with a resounding crack, leaving a jagged spar and temporarily shaking the squid free.
“Bring us closer,” Kjell roared to Lortimer.
Jerick, twined in the rigging of the foremast, dangled above the creature with his bow drawn, doing his best to fire arrows at the glistening head of the beast while being tossed from side to side. Gibbous was inching out on the figurehead, and Peter was clinging to the front of the forecastle deck, stabbing at the clinging tentacles with his spear, attempting to land a fatal blow. Architeuthis, angered and stung, slunk to the starboard side and rose again, entwining two tentacles around the forecastle deck rail. Gibbous was catapulted into the water, and Jerick slipped, losing his bow as he grasped at the knotted rigging, trying not to tumble into the sea. The tentacles seemed to grow as the beast came farther out of the water, its smaller, side tentacles embracing the hull as the larger, front tentacles extended, wrapping around the foremast where Jerick was suspended. Peter, the only warrior in a position to do any damage, jabbed valiantly before being swiped aside like he was nothing more than an irritant. The mast bowed and cracked, and Jerick fell to the quarterdeck and didn’t rise.
Without thought or doubt, Kjell threw himself over the port side, his spear clutched in both hands. Before he hit the water, he heard Sasha scream his name.
Isak, the fire starter, was suddenly in the water beside him, swimming toward the beleaguered ship and the creature intent on bringing her down. Isak couldn’t build a fire in the sea or toss flames from sodden hands, but he began to glow, his arms parting the water in long strokes, drawing the giant eye of the tentacled creature. It watched, almost sentient, and as Isak and Kjell neared, the squid snaked a tentacle around Isak’s luminescent form, lifting him out of the water and toward its bulbous head as if to examine him—or eat him. Isak extended his arms, palms flat, not even fighting the beast as he was drawn inward, face to face. Reaching out, he pressed both of his hands against the massive eye, searing the orb, blinding the creature.
Isak was hurled free, tossed away, end over end, and Kjell filled his lungs and dove deep, for once not fighting his tendency to sink like a stone. He swam downward with his lance, kicking with all his strength and sinking beneath the enormous, flailing squid. Then he rose straight up, his spear vertical and extended, and buried his lance into the mouth located on the underbelly of the beast. It writhed, the spear so embedded a mere foot protruded from the narrow slit.
For a moment Kjell was imprisoned by tentacles, encircled by a rapidly retreating Architeuthis. Then Kjell was free, rising as the beast descended into the darkness of the deep, still blind, still impaled. Kjell kicked toward the surface and the light that glowed there, unsure which enemy had been bested—a massive squid or a ruthless Changer.
The passengers and crew were already climbing into the longboat preparing to descend into the water, and those already in the water were swimming toward the undamaged ship.
He saw Isak being pulled from the water, clinging to a line, conscious and relatively unharmed. The second ship was damaged, the railing broken, the bow split, the bowsprit and foremast snapped in two. There would be no saving it or repairing it on the open sea, and the stores were already taking on water.
Kjell heard Sasha calling his name, raised his head and a hand indicating he was unharmed, and clung to a floating section of the prow, resting momentarily and gasping for breath, before he paddled toward the broken vessel.
“The lieutenant’s in bad shape, Captain. We can’t move him,” a sailor called to him as the longboat was released into the sea.
“Help me up!” Kjell cried, and the rope ladder was dropped, slapping the water. He ascended, his legs and arms shaking with the strain of battle and the fear of what he would find.
A jagged piece of the mast pinioned Jerick to the deck of the damaged ship.
“Everybody onto the other ship,” Kjell instructed, pushing through the few members of the crew and the King’s Guard who remained behind. “I’ll see to the lieutenant.”
“There’s not much time, Captain,” the coxswain implored. “And even if you free him, he’ll bleed out before you can do anything but toss him overboard.”
“Go,” Kjell bellowed, and the man stumbled back, nodding. “Get everyone off.”
He could hear the sea in his head, and his vision swam, but he lowered himself behind his lieutenant, listening and breathing, attempting to muster the strength he would need. Jerick regarded him, trying to smile, but pain bracketed his eyes and undermined his cocky smirk. Kjell laid his hands on Jerick’s chest, avoiding the stake protruding from his body, but withdrew his hands immediately, dismayed. All he heard was a smattering of disconnected cries.
“Your song is like a bloody flock of birds, Jerick! I can’t duplicate it,” Kjell groaned, desperate.
“I’ve always loved your drinking songs, Captain. Why don’t you sing me one of those?”