Page 63 of Rising from the Depths

A long stream of fish passed, their tight formation resembling a shimmering silver ribbon waving in the breeze. The fish flowed above the razorback in an undulating line. Once they passed, the water was suddenly clear. Kronus swung his harpoon gun to the ready.

Dracchus raised a hand and flashed yellow. A moment later, his skin flared red, and he curled his fingers into a clenched fist. No one had any doubt of what his sign meant.

Kronus squeezed the trigger. The rapid thumps of nine harpoon guns firing pulsed through the water. The razorback’s leisurely movements grew suddenly frantic as all nine harpoons struck.

Tether lines went taut as the creature attempted to flee. Panicked bubbles churned the water, accompanied by wispy tendrils of blood. Kronus tensed and flared his tentacles to battle the creature’s strength; it seemed none of the harpoons had done enough damage to be immediately fatal. The muscles of his arms strained to maintain his grip on the gun.

Dracchus signaled again; it was time for the next phase.

Kronus passed his gun to Vasil and took his spear in both hands. The others swam in opposing directions, expanding the diamond formation and pulling the tether lines even tighter. The sudden force from conflicting directions severely limited the razorback’s range of movement. Such an opportunity would not last long.

Without a second thought, Kronus darted toward the razorback as quickly as he could swim, extending the spear ahead of him. His momentum punched the head of the spear into the beast’s skull, and it sank deep — at least as deep as Kronus’s forearm was long. A cloud of blood blossomed on the underside of the beast’s head. Kronus propelled himself clear of the razorback’s jerking death throes.

The surrounding fish gave the hunting party a wide berth as Kronus and his companions hauled the huge carcass back toward the waiting boats, towing it by the tether lines.

Kronus felt lighter. A successful hunt was always a source of pride, but this one was more special than most. He finally felt like a part of his people again, he finally had a mate — aforevermate — and news of this hunt’s prize would hopefully bring Eva satisfaction.

She’d walked with him to the dock early the previous morning, descended the steps into the sand, and looked out over the water where her life had been forever changed. With the wind tousling her hair, she’d let go. Let go of the friends she’d lost, let go of her guilt for being the one who’d lived. Tears had streamed from her eyes as she’d said goodbye to them. Kronus had taken her hand to let her know he was there with her. He’d had no words to offer in those moments, but he felt words weren’t what she’d needed.

All she needed wassomeone. All she needed washim. Just the same as he needed her.

When the hunting party reached the boats, they quickly bundled the dead razorback alongside the largest vessel; it was too big to be brought on board any of the watercraft. The carcass would create extra drag and slow the ship, but neither kraken nor human was willing to let so much meat go to waste.

Splitting up, the hunters climbed into the boats. Kronus shrugged off the familiar sense of heaviness as he pulled himself from the sea’s embrace and into open air. He wouldn’t allow anything to weigh him down. The journey back to The Watch was likely to take a few hours, but once it was done, he could be with Eva again. He knew little about the work humans did to grow and harvest their plants but was eager to hear about her day.

He eased himself down onto the floor of the boat, stretching his arms along the railing. The day had been long, but his aches were well-earned.

The boat swayed as Vasil climbed in, but that motion was insignificant compared to the wild rocking when Dracchus pulled himself up and over the side. Water dripped from the trio of kraken and pooled at the bottom of the boat.

“Guess I’m the popular one today,” said Camrin, the red-haired human piloting the vessel. His smile, as ever, was warm and good-natured. He was one of the younger fishermen, and his mate and their small child awaited him in town.

Despite Kronus’s lingering unease with humans — which refused to cease no matter how much he came to know about them — he couldn’t help but like Camrin. He seemed an honest, dependable man.

Kronus glanced at the other three vessels, each of which held two of the hunters. Bobbing atop orange-stained waters, the ships looked like they were skimming across liquid fire that licked and lashed at their hulls but could not ignite the wood. It would be dark by the time they arrived home.

Home…

He felt strange thinking of The Watch that way, but that did not change the fact — after nearly ten months of it feeling like nothing more than a place in which to exist, the town had suddenly become his home because of Eva.

“Perhaps you offer the smoothest sailing,” Dracchus said. His black skin glistened in the sunset light, creating gold and orange highlights along the ridges of his powerful muscles.

Only two years before, Kronus would have bristled at having to share so tight a space with Dracchus.

Wrong, he told himself.That was true up to a couple weeks ago.

“I’m not sure about that,” Camrin replied with a chuckle, “but I’ll accept it as a compliment, all the same. Just, uh…let’s not tell Breckett or my dad, okay? I don’t want to test that old saying about fishermen.”

Kronus turned his attention to the human, watching as Camrin manipulated the boom and rudder to swing the boat around, beginning their journey homeward. “What saying?”

Camrin laughed, cheeks reddening slightly. “Right, sorry. Sometimes I forget you guys weren’t brought up around here.”

That seemed an odd reply. Kronus’s instinct was to seek the insult hidden in those words, but he could detect none. There was only…acceptance, an implication that the kraken were a natural, familiar part of life for Camrin.

“Anyway, I was just thinking of something my father used to say all the time.” Camrin cleared his throat. When he spoke again, he did so in a gruffer, deeper voice. “Only thing harder than an old seaman’s head is his fists.”

Kronus pondered the words. At face value, their meaning was simple, but he sensed there was more to them just beneath the surface. Humans liked saying things that contained layered meanings. When the realization came to him a moment later, he felt foolish. It wasn’t merely an observation, it was a warning — do not cross the older fishermen. They were a hard bunch. He couldn’t help but smirk; his time with Eva over the last few weeks had taught him to better recognize — and appreciate — human humor.

There was a bit of self-deprecation in a man who made his living by the sea admitting to hardheadedness. That was a sort of humor Kronus might relate to, one day.

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