Page 71 of The Shadow of Polaris

“Elpis! The ram! Now!” Aryx shouted, his black breastplate glinting red. He shoved a sailor into the rower’s berthing. The man cried in agony as his mangled leg, spurting blood from its arteries, bounced down the gangway steps.

My warship floated dangerously close to Scylla. With her remaining heads distracted by the panicked cries of my men, we could make the final blow. Holding the oar centerline, I shouted for my remaining sailors to man the oars. With each rower’s stroke, our ship picked up speed and heaved toward the creature.

“Protect that ship!” Balakros called to his brother.

The two ordered their crew to flank each side of us as we continued to press forwards. Noticing the trio of ships speeding toward her, Scylla lifted three of her feet, shifting her weight to one cliff to crack down on Xenophron’s deck.

The wood practically disintegrated on impact as the ship split into pieces. Amid the groans of its hull as it sank into the sea, Balakros wailed for his brother, begging him to leap from its deck and swim to safety. Before Xenophron could abandon the wreck, Scylla lunged for him, crushing his body beneath the weight of her foot. The remnants of his crew drifted into the depths, leaving only a trail of bubbles as they let out their final breaths.

With one last stroke of our oars, the curved bronze ram plunged through Scylla’s scaly stomach.

“Reverse!” I commanded.

Arcturas, soaked and frightened, pounced toward me. Wrapping her body around me, she cowered behind my feet.

The sailors redacted their strokes, and we glided backwards away from the writhing beast. Her entrails poured out of the ship-sized hole in her abdomen. She shrieked and shrieked in agony, losing her grip against the rock wall and falling into the raging whirlpool below. As she let out a final roar, her body disappeared into the blood-stained waves, joining the graveyard of my men.

I fell to my knees, exhausted from the chaos. Balakros’s sobs were heard across the Narrows, filling the silence with grief that only death creates. Hobbling to the aft deck, I grasped at the oar, guiding what remained of our fleet out of the Narrows.

My Queen, what have you done? Rah’s voice filled my head as he soared safely above the wreckage.

“I saved my men,” I sighed, wiping the sweat and blood off my brow.

You’ve killed a most ancient creature. There will be consequences for your actions. Be prepared.

“The consequences are worth our lives,” I said, leaning heavily against the railing.

“I’ll face whatever I need to. These men are worth it.”

I wouldn’t be so sure. The falcon swooped down to the deck.

Tucking his wings into his chest, he stared at me with worrisome eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Scylla is not the only creature that guards these waters. Her blood will draw them out, sensing a threat.

“We’ll face whatever comes,” I said, examining my petrified wolf for any injuries or wounds. Aside from her fur being drenched, she was okay. I kissed her forehead in relief and rose to survey the rest of the damage.

We’d lost fifty ships, and with them, hundreds of men. The remaining ships had taken on damage, but nothing too major. Thank the gods. I scanned the fleet for Aryx. He hunched over his oarsman, doused in thick blood and exhausted from the battle. Raising his head, our eyes met and relief pooled beneath the golden flecks of his irises.

“I’m glad you’re okay, El,” he called, waving across the waters. I smiled softly back.

We were okay.

For now.

Chapter 39

The waters calmed as we sailed on into nightfall. The rowers took shifts, propelling the fleet forward. When the moon was at its zenith, the three remaining command ships rafted together and I summoned our council to the chartroom.

“We need to choose a ship to take Xenophron’s command,” I said, sitting at a small, dusty table. The air was damp and musty with the stench of seawater and open wounds. A bead of sweat dripped from my nose as I sat, taking in the reported damage from my council. Our glasses of whiskey clinked back and forth against the ballast tabletop, sliding side to side with each soft rocking of swells.

“My men can fill the position. Most are sharp with their bows,” Lytos said from across the chartroom.

Aryx’s eyes sharpened and he rose in dispute.

“Lytos, you can’t be serious. You have a wife and child at home. I only agreed to bring you aboard in the promise that you’d remain in the second wave of our fleet. Now you’re suggesting you join the front lines?! Absolutely not,” he growled.

---