Page 2 of Palaces and other Prisons
He didn’t understand why there had been no successful eggs and no child to ensure his line continued. Unlike other kinds, krakke couldn’t mate with their own kind. They needed others, which is why it was so important to meet potential suitors to ensure compatibility.
The guards exchanged worried looks.
Ul kept moving. They were running out of time, as the tide wouldn’t recede forever. The ground fell away, and he jumped, landing in a crouch. Then he ran toward what had been an underwater cave. He skidded over the wet and slippery rocks, and the two guards ran after him.
The cave was dark, but he let his markings glow a soft yellow to cast enough light that he didn’t trip over any of the eggs.Scattered around the cave were the clusters of eggs. The bigger the eggs, the fewer remained. No one expected every egg to grow and hatch, as the stronger ones fed off the weaker until only one or two made it to hatching. Without water, the smaller ones had already wilted. The bigger ones held young closer to hatching. They couldn’t save them all, which was heartbreaking. He’d lost too many not to feel the loss as if they were his own.
“Start with the ones closest to hatching.” He moved to the closest egg that looked as though it might hatch in a handful of days, but without water, the hatchling would be crushed. “Get water in the bucket.”
Why were they moving so slowly?
The guard scooped water into the bucket from a puddle and held the bucket out to him. Ul ripped the egg off the rock and placed it in the bucket. He was sure he heard the young screaming. He moved to the next one, hoping that the families would understand what he was doing. He put two more eggs in the bucket. “Go, put some more rock pool water in the bucket and head to the library.”
The other guard had already scooped water into the bucket. “The rest are too small.”
The newest eggs appeared to have been laid only a few nights ago, and the eggs had collapsed, already dead. The ones that were a month old were too small and too numerous. “We need to try.”
Ul tilted his head. It wasn’t the crying of the young he was hearing; it was a crackling, a rumbling, that made his cartilage vibrate. They were out of time.
The palace overhead groaned.
Ul closed his eyes, waiting for the wave to hit. The rocks shook. Was the castle falling?
The world heaved, and Ul lost his balance on the slippery floor. He didn’t know whether he should scramble deeper into the cave or rush toward the entrance.
It didn’t matter as the roof fell, crushing a tentacle and pinning him in place. He screamed as water flooded the cave.
CHAPTER 2
The alarm had Dawson rolling out of bed and pulling on his pants and boots before he was even fully awake. It was only then that he became aware of the shuddering and screeching of metal, a noise he’d never heard on an oil platform, and he’d been working on them for six years.
He pulled on the rest of his clothes and made his way to his designated station. The platform lurched as if it was about to fall over.
His shoulder slammed into the wall. “Fuck.”
What was going on?
There’d been no sign of a storm when he’d gone to bed. His heartbeat quickened. Everyone was talking, and nobody knew what was going on. The platform jolted again, and everyone reached for something to grab onto.
Should they be launching emergency rafts?
The idea of abandoning the platform and taking their chances in the North Sea held no appeal, but neither did going down with the platform if it was indeed going down.
Metal squealed and twisted, and the platform tipped again.
Someone prayed. Were they expecting a divine hand to pluck them out of danger?
Dawson leaned against the wall, his fingers pressing against the cold metal, waiting for an order or something. Nothing happened. The platform didn’t shake or groan. It remained tilted at an odd angle. He held tight, too scared to move away from the wall in case something happened, but he still needed to make it to his emergency station as the alarm continued to sound.
Slowly, with a few glances and nods, everyone in the corridor agreed to move. Like everyone else, he kept one hand on the wall as if expecting the platform to twist again. But whatever had happened seemed to be over. Was this going to end up in a documentary about an oil spill in the North Sea?
How long until they were evacuated from the platform?
Or would the sea take them first?
They were supposed to gather outside, which didn’t seem particularly safe, as it would only take a slip, and someone would end up sliding off the platform into the sea. Daylight greeted him, along with the curses of others announcing the missing sea.
That was bullshit. The North Sea couldn’t vanish. Curiosity was enough to drive Dawson to venture outside so that he could look around.
