Then, he stares at the whalebone nestled at the heart of the net with eyebrows pinching together.
“Do I… Do I even want to know what this will do?” he asks.
But we don’t answer him. Instead, we focus on throwing it into the water.
“On three!” I yell, catching Zayan’s eye. His face is set, resolute, no trace of fear. Only focus, and a grim understanding of what lies ahead.
“One… two… three!”
With a final, brutal shove, we push the net overboard. It sinks fast, the weight of the whalebone dragging it beneath the waves, the ropes trailing out like tendrils. I brace myself, gripping the rail as the cold, biting spray drenches us. For a heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then, the Marauders fire another shot from their cannons. Another wave of shouts erupts on the deck. I can see Ridley crouching at the wheel. Vinicola screams beside me as water sloshes against the hull.
I’m starting to think it won’t work—that we’ll all have to face the battle, perhaps even die in the process. That maybe the shaman who sold me the bone was lying, just to make a quick buck on another superstitious fool.
But no. Something happens.
It comes—a deep, ancient rumble that reverberates through the water, shaking the hull, thrumming in my bones. My stomach knots as the deck trembles, the weight of it pressing up from the depths.
The creature answers.
A moment later, I see it—an immense shadow, stretching wide beneath the waves. Its outline blurs against the dim depths, but the sheer size of it is unmistakable, monstrous beyond anything natural. A few of the men gasp; some mutter desperate prayers under their breath. I spot Gypsy, rigid and grim, her jaw clenched as she braces herself.
With a surge that feels more like a quake, it rises, breaching the water. Its body is colossal, spanning nearly the length of our ship. Jagged scars crisscross its thick, dark hide, and its massive, ridged flukes spread out like wings.
Its head emerges, blunt and lined with deep grooves, giving way to a mouth so wide it could swallow half our hull. Instead of the calm, dim eyes of any ordinary whale, this thing’s eyes glow faintly, almost as if they’re empty.
It’s monstrous. There’s no other word for it.
The beast dives again, dragging us forward with a force that makes the whole ship groan as if she’s splitting apart. The ropes strain, sounding like they’ll snap any second, and water slams over us in sharp, cold sheets, biting our skin and blinding us. The hull creaks, an old complaint against this insane strain, and I know that the damn thing could tear us in half if it wants to.
The deck heaves, and every last one of us hits the boards.
“Grab hold of something!” I shout, bracing my feet against the wood, but it’s like trying to dig into ice. My boots slide, and I’m flung forward like a toy.
To my side, Vinicola’s barely holding on, clutching one of the ropes pulled tight from the beast’s pull, his whole body straining like he’s just inches from being torn off. He stretches a hand toward me, teeth gritted, face pale as chalk.
“Mr. Madman!” he shouts, his voice barely reaching over the chaos.
I don’t trust his grip. I don’t trust his strength, either. Hell, I barely trust this cursed ship to hold together another hour. But I grab his hand anyway, heave myself forward, and latch onto the rope beside him.
“What in the world is happening?” he stammers, wide-eyed.
I don’t bother answering. My jaw’s locked too tight to get a word out, and if I did, it’d be to tell him to shut up.
The fear claws back, deep and relentless. It wrecks me from inside out. It threatens to pull me under. Still, I hold myself with all the power I have.
But one thing’s clear—we’re moving fast. Too fast. Faster than any cursed wind should take us, faster than a sane ship could handle. At this speed, we should be leaving The Crimson Marauders in our wake, a safe speck in the distance by now.
Weshouldbe.
But no. We’re not safe. Not fromher. Turns out the goddess doesn’t take kindly to mortals reaching into her bag of tricks and pretending we can command what’s hers.
She finds a way to punish us anyway.
41
Gypsy
