Page 32 of Heir of Autumn
As one the krakens shrieked. The ocean boiled, gone red with their ichor. A beautiful bloodbath.
13
“Yikes,”Evander said, pinching his nose as he stepped toward the edge of the lagoon. “Yikes on bikes, you two. Don’t you think this was kind of overkill?”
Satchel fluttered, then landed on my shoulder, patting it for good measure. “Seems like just the right amount of killing, really. We do need a ton of those gemstones, don’t forget.”
“It just — eww. It just seems like a lot.”
“Shut up, Skink,” I growled.
“Yeah,” Namirah said, sauntering up toward us. “Shut up, Skink. I thought you were cool with violence and bloodshed. Also, extravagant displays of violence and bloodshed.”
“It’s so uncouth, is all.”
My hand twitched. Instead of choking him out I slapped myself in the forehead. “You use exploding butterflies to dismember your enemies. How is this so — never mind.”
Sylvain, who’d been serious and stoic the whole time, pressed a quick kiss against my brow. “I thought I saw some freshwater nearby. At worst I might use some saltwater to at least rinse these leaves.”
“Very sensible of you, Sylvain,” I said. “And very thoughtful.”
He swept his arm over his head. Gore-stained leaves leapt out of the water, spattering the sand with blood in an arc that just narrowly missed Evander and his precious clothes. Evander shrieked, dodging sideways and shuddering, too preoccupied to catch Sylvain giving me a knowing wink. I tried not to laugh.
“Disgusting,” Evander said, stamping his foot. “What are the chances that every single guardian we found today was a kraken? Why not a big fish? You know, one that doesn’t pelt us with rocks and coconuts?”
Namirah shook her head. “The Oriel of Water responded to our presence. It must have sensed a large cluster of power. Why else would it hit us with everything it’s got? These elemental dimensions aren’t called challenge grounds for nothing.”
“Or giant turtles,” Evander grumbled. “Just knock them on their backs, and hey, presto! Kill them while they try to get up.”
“Gods, Evander, enough,” I grumbled back. “How’s the rainbow sphere, anyway? Did you guys keep it defended this whole — oh. Whoa.”
The last thing I expected to see was Old Man, Scruffles, and all my doves just chilling calmly in the sand.
The doves cooed, pecking at the sand and leaving little bird-y footprints as they waddled. Old Man yawned, his powerful jaws lined with blood. Kraken blood, presumably. And Scruffles was behaving in a decidedly unScruffles-like manner, calmly sitting on his hindquarters as he licked his paws and groomed himself.
We made eye contact.
I learned a long time ago never to make eye contact with Scruffles. I’d never seen a deeper well of pure, primal anger. An inherent hatred for everything, an impulse for destruction. Fully unleashed, I was convinced Scruffles could end civilizations, destroy worlds.
This time, the look in his eyes was one of total serenity. Contentment.
Sitting in their midst was the rainbow orb, a perfectly spherical, multicolored egg. That was the only explanation. Maybe the unicorn’s magic, or even her very presence transmitted an aura of tranquility. Not enough to stop kraken rage and keep them from batting her egg around like a cat toy, but anyway.
Wasn’t it time for our egg to hatch?
I approached, placing my hand flat against the scintillating rainbow surface. Warmth and comfort washed over me like summer rain. It felt so different with the other three unicorns, how their presence had dazzled me instead. I tapped gently on the sphere.
“Hello? Your sisters sent us to help you. Vanessica, Gwennifer, and Triffany. It’s safe to come out now.”
The rainbow egg shimmered, then began to fade from the top. I backed away several steps, eager to give the unicorn space. The egg’s dissolution stopped halfway down, leaving a hemisphere, or a multicolored bowl.
I couldn’t make it out before, but there was water sloshing inside it. That shouldn’t have been so strange, right? Aquatic unicorn and all. But I stepped forward, peering over the edge of the bowl. To say that my mind was blown was something of an understatement.
Somewhere by my ear, accompanied by the buzz of his wings, Satchel gasped. “Oh, wow. Plot twist.”
The fourth unicorn was not, in fact, a unicorn at all. She wasn’t even remotely horse-y in shape or form. She most closely resembled a whale, a scattering of black speckles all over her white skin. That explained the need to keep water in her rainbow fishbowl.
A horn definitely grew out of her head, though, longer and more majestic than those belonging to her sisters. Gods above and below. The fourth unicorn was a narwhal.
