Page 56 of Shifter King
Amelia would probably name that kraken. What name would she pick? Who could say?
Something from those books on her tablet. Gilgamesh or Darcy or whatever appealed in the moment. She always got that little smile and soft look when she figured out just the right name, as if it was something rather special.
It wasn't entirely something he understood. Each creature was different, but a name was not essential for that recognition. Still, through the act of naming there was the recognition of connection.
For the attack on Darmoste, it would be quite a feat to turn this creature to his service. Krakens were notoriously difficult, resisting instruction and training even with proficient Bealorns, and he no longer had any of the charms to assist with the task. Unless he made his own monsters, but that…that would be quite a feat and it still wouldn't have the absolute poetic justice of feeding Abliatos to this creature that had eaten so many Vawtrians.
He could save time and just bring them here rather than sending the kraken into their homes. When it came to eating, krakens tended to be mostly accommodating.
Yes, probably better to be simple. Just bring them here and feed them to it. Or kill them himself. Either way. The dead probably didn't think about poetry quite as much as he did.
Naatos prepared a small hole in the ground, then stabbed the staff inside. A few more rocks added to shore it up, he sealed them together to ensure this would not be easy to move. The stones he secured to the earth itself. One by one then, he removed the gems from their settings and dropped them onto the stones. These he sealed into the stone as well so that no one would assume they had been stolen. Next he half melted the head of the staff so that it started to split.
Good.
He dropped Enver's body on his back and wrapped his hand around the staff. Just a few adjustments later, and the Abliato illusionist had his hand sealed to the staff as he stared in sightless horror forever into the sky much as exhausted victims of an endless nightmare might perish, too weary to even draw themselves into the fetal position and utterly exposed.
Amelia had mentioned a signature. It wasn't a dreadful idea. He hadn't really considered one for himself. After all he usually made his own killings public. Perhaps that was something to change.
In this case, he hadn't requested that a survivor be left to tell the tale. It was too risky for Phobos and the other weakened Vawtrians here. Damn it. He was getting soft. He didn't want any of them wounded beyond repair or killed.
But what he had in mind would work well enough for now.
He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. The sand kraken's tentacle had found its way up the staircase and swiped along the stone, sucking up the blood as it went. An exceptionally efficient creature when it came to cleaning up messes. Now that it had consumed all of the meat it could find, it seemed attracted to anything with blood.
Just how far could it climb? The blood trail went well beyond the staircase and onto the stony earth. Could it make its way out if it thought there was a food source present?
He crouched at the edge of the staircase, watching its movement. Scent was suppressed here but not gone. Was that enough to explain how it could find the blood and the bodies? It had taken the boot as well. Perhaps after a certain amount of time it simply searched the area for whatever it could take. Some predators did function that way.
If it was going to take that body though and all his hard work with it, they would have a problem. He scooped up handfuls of the grey-brown soil and then pushed them down the staircase as the kraken continued to feel its way up, its long orange tentacles stretching higher and higher. The dust coated his hands, but as he worked the soil, it absorbed the blood.
With several more well-placed mounds of dirt, he erased all visible traces of the blood.
The kraken's tentacle wrapped over the piles of dirt, then swept it down. Other tentacles spread out, searching throughout the entirety of the arena. How had anyone ever survived this? Was there some command that the Abliatos used to restrain it? This entire arena seemed to be its feeding bowl. And there were other arenas like it throughout.
Interesting.
He stood and dusted his hands off on his trousers, leaving dusty handprints on the smooth black fabric.
This creature would be useful. Somehow. He'd just have to give some thought to what that would look like exactly.
A heavy force struck his mind, slicing through all his barriers and shields. It nearly dropped him to the ground. Staggering, he caught himself on the low stone wall.
Amelia’s voice punched into his mind, not words. An impression. Something was wrong.
Shaking his head, he righted himself.
He bolted forward, the black dragon form ripping through his body and giving him great speed.
BABY
Amelia shuddered as she fell out of the deep mindreading. Wincing, she took in a large breath of smoky air. Lifting her arm, she shielded her face.
Smoke billowed up from the stove as QueQoa poured a bowl of ilthun salt over the flames.
The stew pot and skillet sat on the far side of the table, blackened bits of stew and burn marks licking the pot's side.
"I told WroOth it would catch fire," he muttered as he set the kettle aside. "Can you still breathe, Amelia? Neyeb don't do well in smoke."
