The ship tilts again, and when the body beside me tries to slide past, his sword appears from beneath him. I catch it with one planted foot. The ropes strain painfully across my stomach and wrists, but the ship rights itself again. I have the weapon, but I can’t reach it, and another rush of helpless frustration sets my teeth on edge. I slip a boot off. If Ican—
The ship goes sideways and the weapon slips, sliding just a hair out of reach. I stretch for it, pain flaring in every nerve.
Then a dark shadow swoops down, crunching the body’s ribs with the force of its weight. The bird tugs at the strings of muscle already fanned across the wood, then one of its eyes trains on me.
Wet air saws in and out of my lungs as it cocks its head, then steps forwards. The chaos of storm and sound and death narrows to the emotionless black of its eyes and the rain that forms glittering beads over the grey of its feathers. I’m stuck. Another step. A leap, and I’ll be in gutting range. No chance to fight it, no hope of grabbing the sword still trapped under my bare foot or the weapons sheathed beneath my clothes. Rune left me here to die. Pride, fear. No matter the motivation, the end is the same.
We were so close.
The bird’s image blurs and I flinch away, waiting for the bite of talons, but none comes. There’s a jerk of pressure at my waist, and I open my eyes to watch the ropes fall away.
“Come on!” Otto grabs my aching wrist and wrenches me down the stairs, leaving behind the roc, whose massive claws are now glued to the deck with slimeshot. He drags us past the overwhelm of shooting crossbows and arcing blood and into the captain’s quarters. I yank my hand away just as he pulls me through.
“I’m not hiding,” I say, my voice hard.
“Cap said you can’t swim. You go out there, you’re going overboard. Unless you can get a rope on you, but it doesn’t look to be helping anyone else out there.”
The ship tilts as if in agreement, and we plant our feet as Rune’s coffee mug slips across the ground, rolling cheerfully to the other side of the room.
“I can swim. But you need to stay here.”
“But the captain said—”
“I don’t give a damn what your prince said, Otto,” I shout as I open the door to the gale of the storm and leave, letting it slam behind me. I sweep my eyes over the deck, looking for the tell-tale silhouette of Rune’s massive body. It’s carnage. Some are still tied to the mast, others have cut themselves free, trying to avoid the tangle of ropes and bodies. The ocean crashes over the top in waves, washing the red of blood and sinew and bodies away in watery streaks. An oily gel leaks from the tentacles, seeping out in a purple ooze.
Another bird drops beside me, but this one is down, its feathers still being chewed away by the acidic bolt embedded in its chest.
A group loads a larger crossbow mounted to the deck, aiming for the tentacles that reach up out of the water. Two meet their mark, exploding just seconds after impact.
“I think they’re retreating,” Elio shouts from somewhere across the chaos. The lightning is high in the sky, sheeting across the clouds, illuminating the birds that have pulled away to circle above. The tentacles fall back until only one is left, speared high in the air, with no apparent interest in the ship or the bolts that fail to make purchase.
For a moment, I think it might be over, and the creature’s retreat offers a half-second of easy breath. I see Rune on the other side of the deck, his head tipped back to watch thesky. Blood drips freely from the handle of his bone blade. I follow his gaze to the rocs above, whose circle formation has tightened, sped. Electricity crackles over their bodies, zipping in sparks and webs of rumbling light.
Then the sky erupts in a deafening boom, and white sears so bright the pain spears into my head. I flinch, blinking away the shattering cracks of light that live behind my eyelids.
The world seeps back into focus in muted shouts and blurred images. Water rushes over my feet—my boot is still missing. The ocean is chill, insistent.
“BRACE YOURSELVES.”
I don’t know who says it, only that the world tips a moment later, and my feet lose contact with the deck. I flail in the darkness, fingers grazing taut ropes as I slam into those that have tied themselves to the mast. When the ship comes up to catch me, it’s with the railing, and my back arches against the blinding pain as the bones of my back slam into the wood.
On all fours, I look up to find the kraken has the ship curled in one, massive, suckered grip, the tentacle electrified by the roc’s lightning. It buzzes and arcs with bursts of current that hit the deck. Water floods and empties away from it, turning it into an alternating hazard of loose electricity. The crew turns all the weaponfire they have, sinking bolts of bone and solid wood. Some explode, like Otto’s. Others do little, the kraken’s mucus layer nulling any acidity or flame that tries to stick.
Rune manifests in the middle of the chaos, halberd brandished like he thinks he’ll get a chance to stab at it before the water electrocutes him. Bolts fly over his shoulders, but he doesn’t flinch, his face fierce in the unnaturaldusk. The tendril grips the main mast. I rise as a bird tries to fly at his back. My bola aims true, tangling its wing and bringing it down to where I can leap forward to press a blade into the space between its head and neck. He turns as I untangle the weapon, our eyes meeting between one flash of lighting and the next.
Then he’s gone, lost in a flurry of ripped sails, flying shadows, and struggling bodies. I move to follow, but a force rips me backwards by the base of my tangled braid, shooting pain down my bruised spine, and it’s all I can do to draw Rune’s dagger as I’m yanked into the deeper shadows.
“You did this, you mangy bitch.”
Reid. His voice alone makes my stomach curdle. I spin, aiming the handle of the dagger into the sensitive lower bones of his ribs. He hisses and lets go, but angles his own blade to my neck, like he thinks he could move fast enough to use it.
“I’m a little busy, pissbreath,” I say, gesturing to the chaos around us.
His sunburned face is smeared with blood that leaks from a cut at the crown of his head. His eyes are wide, his grin almost manic. “We’re already dead,” he says, shouting over the wail of the wind. “Because of you.” The words are punctuated by a swipe of his blade.
I leap back. He’s taller and stronger, but it’s half a thought to parry, sending the edge away. The blood in my veins is beyond boiling, but I’ve got bigger problems than a small man with an overinflated ego. “Is this how you want to die, Reid? Felled by a pirate? Letting the kraken take you would be a much cooler story.”
He bares his teeth and swipes again. I step to one side, then leap to parry another sloppy blow, grinning now, because the look on his face might be the last pleasure I get before this ship is taken by the sea. “Harder to gut than you expected?”
