Chapter 11: Is it a Bad Sign if You Sink Your Ship Before it Even Sails?

At first light, a rooster somewhere crowed, jerking me awake. Narreta was still curled up next to me. As gently as I could, I removed myself from her grip and repositioned the blanket we'd shared over her. Narreta didn't stir. I wondered why my uncle hadn't come to find her. It wasn't safe. But then again, I thought bitterly, then again, what I was about to do wasn't exactly free of hazards either.

As I shouldered my pack and turned to face the ocean, a small voice murmured, drowsy in sleep. "Don't leave." Tiny fingers latched onto my ankle, tugging at my shoes. I prised them off my foot, bent down to kiss her forehead. "Bye bye, little panda."

"Bye bye," she sniffled. My heart pounded turbulently at the sight of her, curled lonelily on the glass I had smelted, but I stood up, the single, sudden motion the hardest I had ever made, and strode off without another word.

Towards another world.

Father told me he'd arranged for the best boat he could find to be moored at the end of the pier today, and sure enough, where the rickety wood planks dropped off into the sea, there was a boat suitable for crossing the ocean tied to the post. I knew how to sail, being a Chieftess, but this wouldn't be easy. I plopped the pack down on the deck and perched on the end of the pier, looking east at the rising sun.

I'd learned to sail on the still, windy lakes scattered through Kaleveh. I could kayak down the choppiest rapids on the Tyrbery, but what could that compare to the fabled lightning storms and mysterious sea monsters lurking in the depths of the great ocean?

I wished I'd had more time. I wished Mama could've explained about the demons. I wished I could go back.

"Aye, lady!" a cheerful, rough voice rang from somewhere inside the ship.

"Captain," I inclined my head. In spite of myself, a real smile bloomed across my icy cheeks. That was the power of a genuine greeting.

"Come aboard. I won't be comin' with you, but sure I can show you the ropes!" he might've have been ship-speaking, but my brain filtered out most of his words. To be honest, I barely heard him. It might've been wiser to actually listen, but given the events of the past 24 hours, I thought it was safe to say that my brain was more addled than a weasel on drugs. It might've taken a simple instruction like 'pull this lever to accelerate' and interpreted it as 'eat sea snails to cause spontaneous combustion.' Who knew?

I climbed in, the tiny boat bobbing on the waves as the captain gave me a tour of the vessel. There was a navigation room with top-notch technology (too sophisticated for me to understand a lot more than auto-navigate), a mast with creamy sails flapping in the breeze, and belowdecks, a waterproofed cargo hold and two rooms each holding a bed and a substantial amount of cupboards. I wanted to inspect the boat further, but the captain's incessant rambling was becoming distracting. "Thanks, Captain," I grimaced. "I'm sure I can figure it out from here."

"Trying to get rid of me, are you?" he chuckled.

"Ha ha."

He saluted me, tipping his cap. "Thanks," I said.

"Be safe, m'lady."

"Thanks." I tried to smile at him, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"So…is there anything else you need?"

"I don't think so." I shook my head and teetered on my toes, itching to get out of here.

"Okay…have fun?" he laughed nervously.

"I guess?" I mirrored his unsure chuckle. "Thank you."

Awkward. Awkward, awkward.

As the captain began to back away, a worryingly uneasy smile on his lips, a growl rang out from behind me.

Please let it be a feral dog or something, I thought.

"What have we got here?" A voice like sandpaper rasped from behind me.

Or not. Unless feral dogs could talk.

Cursing my horrible luck, I turned to face the source of the voice. The first thing I noticed about it were the sculptures protruding from its shaggy head. Then I realised that they weren't tree-sized statues, but horns curving from his scalp. They made up almost a third of his towering height, the tip of the right one snapped off, scratches and gouges flecking the obsidian keratin. Ridges curved all around their twisting lengths, tapering to a blunted point on the left horn, a jagged slice splitting the other. Tangled dark fur matted with mud covered the rest of its body. Surprisingly, it didn't totally stink—well, not as much as I'd expect from a monster who knew likely nothing about things like personal hygiene. Maybe not quite landfill dumpster level—perhaps it was wearing something closer to overflowing-sidewalk-bin eau de cologne. But waves of darkness emanated from it, as if I needed another reminder that it was not of this world. Beaded eyes glinted somewhere up on its head. Did I mention it had the slimy, swishing tail of a lizard, only about a thousand times larger?

Somewhere behind me, the captain retched. I turned just in time to see the contents of his last meal spill into the sea. My brain wouldn't let me collect myself enough to form words, but I hoped my eyes conveyed the message well enough: RUN!!!! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the captain dive into the calm water despite the freezing temperatures, flailing in the direction of a tiny lifeboat that was almost falling apart, bobbing on the waves.

My brain didn't even compute that this certainly eons-old monster was speaking. I found it extremely hard to concentrate—sure death lurked everywhere I looked. I tried looking at a patch of fur just below its neck, but there was a patch in it that looked suspiciously like dried blood. Its horns were no safer; all the scratches only reminded me of all the battles this monster had probably fought and walked away from. Even something you might think was unassuming, like its left eye, wasn't comforting in the slightest. In fact, the dark, angry scar snaking through the bloodshot eyeball almost made me wish someone could distract the beast long enough for me to empty my stomach just like the captain and run away screaming. At least that way I would survive, even if my pride was wounded forever.

With trembling fingers, I palmed the long hunting knife that hung like a dead weight from the belt of my pants. I had never used the dagger before, even if it was always there; the wickedly sharp edge and ostentatiously carved maple handle were mainly a show of importance, to create the portrait of indulgence, and on like, 0.01 percent of the time, for self-defence. The knife felt heavy and useless in my hand. Light glittered off the golden fuller like a disco ball.

"What a treat you have brought me, Chandani-Amita Zarramere," it croaked, a wet, fleshy thing appearing from the depths of its matted fur swiping at its maw. It was hard to believe that the glistening, pink slab of flesh was a tongue. "The blood…animal blood suffices most of the time, but how could we pass up Gifted blood? So very tasty…a treat we have not tasted in a long, long, while. And with the might of Fire in my stomach, I, the indomitable Branokann, will rule unrivalled as king!"

I had the uneasy feeling its version of 'a long while' was different from mine. And even if I wasn't so sure I liked the idea of my blood being harnessed to make the Branokann unrivalled, indomitable was a fancy word for such a brutal monster. Maybe he had grown tired of eternally winning Scrabble. It made sense. There is nothing as boring or energy-consuming as time spent wracking one's brain for the longest word beginning with 'T.'

"And even regular human blood…what a rarity! Oh, we indulge from time to time, but still…why, my friends will be delighted!" His tone of voice suggested anything but. He needed to work on his expression control.

"I can smell all the people in your tiny village," it snarled. Now, it just had to pick just then to actually sound delighted. "I can smell their blood."

Kaleveh was far from tiny. But I didn't have a hard time believing that was an accurate descriptive term through the eyes of the monster who called himself Branokann. (Please don't kill me for assuming the monster's gender. Listen to such a deep voice long enough and you see if your belief that the beast could be female could hold out for long. Plus, it had proclaimed itself to soon be a king. You couldn't argue with that.)

It stood up onto its hind legs, revealing claws like butcher blades, previously hidden by the fur. A mini foot race suddenly began deep in my stomach, a cold sweat managing to break out on my forehead in spite of the chilly dawn air.

Two enormous nostrils, bristling holes on a rubbery looking snout flared. "It has been a long time since I have had such a feast. So delicious." The enormous cow creature licked its lips in anticipation. "I think I shall start with you,"

My heart hammered inside my chest. My hands felt clammy, my fingers shaking. I gripped the blade tighter. It was obvious I could not beat this beast with force. But I had other weapons in my arsenal. Wits—and pure stupidity. I shouted the only thing I could think of. "Come get me, Cow Face!"

And I dived into the water.

Pure stupidity compelled me. Don't ask why I did it.

The water wasn't deep. When I sank to the bottom, maybe about one or two metres of water closed in over my head. Still, rocks and loose debris prickled my bare ankles, and slimy kelp tugged at my feet. I couldn't shake off the feeling that the seaweed felt like the weak grasps of dead, rotten fingers, waiting to pull me under.

"You will have to do better than that to throw off me," he rumbled. "I could simply turn around and find someone else. I sense someone nearby, a child, perhaps, with your blood inside of her. She will make a tasty appetiser."

I broke the surface and gasped. "She is a sickly child, all skin and bones," I made up on the spot. "She will not sit well in your stomach. Now, me? I suppose I would be much more appealing to your tastebuds."

He cocked his head, as if thinking, huh? This puny mortal dares speak back to me? "I am the great Branokann," he pounded his chest with his fists, as if the name meant anything to me.

"Come on," I jibed, "don't you want me for breakfast? Or are you scared?" I clenched my fingers to keep them from trembling, legs kicking instinctively to keep afloat. I could not let him get to Narreta. Or the captain. The monster was my problem.

He bared his fangs.

I kept taunting him. It seemed to be the only thing stopping me from a very gruesome, untimely death. "Afraid of getting your hair wet?"

This mortal must have a death wish, I imagined him thinking to himself. There it was again—the sarcasm that slipped out whenever I was cornered. Mama would've laughed softly, then scolded me for it. I wasn't exactly the most elegant Chieftess. I had to remind myself it didn't matter. In the middle of battle wasn't the best time to start being philosophical. Still. Mama was gone.

"What happened to your horn, Cow Face?" I teased, plastering a mask of mock sympathy on my face. "Cow got your tongue?"

He roared, shaking the whole pier and the water surrounding it. My head dipped below the surface. When I came up again, I was met with a face full of fur. I felt claws rip straight through my jacket. And I was flying, his talons hooking into my shirt. If the fabric ripped, I would become but a grease spot on the wood that suddenly seemed so, so far downwards. But I did not fear. I faced him, looking into his mean, squinty eyes. I grinned, forcing out a laugh. Soon I was shaking with the effort, and some part of me wondered if I would kill myself by wriggling so much that he dropped me. But hey, it's called stupidity for a reason. The giant cow creature blinked. "What's so funny?" he grumbled.

"Oh, it's just that—never mind," I giggled.

"What is it?" He closed another talon around the collar of my shirt, giving me some extra stability and still making me sway so much I might fall at any moment. "Is my moustache crooked?" He asked. What? Oh, this was good. A self-conscious cow monster? "Who snapped your horn, Cow Face?"

He growled. I decided to go for it and pray I spouted some stuff that at least half made sense. "You know, when you were born, yo momma thought you were so ugly she got herself into a frenzy and snapped your horn herself," I let out a cackle. Before he had a chance to react, I interrupted, "but either way you look like, really deformed," I chuckled to myself. "Totally lopsided." I giggled again, trying my best imitation of the gossip girl squad at school. Either I had gone completely out of my wits, or I really did have a death wish, I thought. "I don't think you're so great, you know."

He swung around, and I got a free rollercoaster ride. "And I can't help but think, you probably would look better without the other horn too." The beast bellowed. Touchy subject. I heard the ripping sound of a thread snapping.

The wind was whistling madly in my ears, an alarm blaring, and I flung my hands out instinctively. Somehow, the knife remained in my hand.

A shudderingly painful impact as my bones crunched on wood. The breath was knocked out of me as searing pain shot up my spine. I felt like I was being flayed. Ow, ow, ow ow ow. Then I burned through the trembling wood, fire licking at my face, ash coating my clothes as I fell to greet the water. It felt like a giant palm slapping my back. As I sank through the slimy kelp, I raised my hand to my face. Alive. I was still alive, in spite of the burning pain searing my spine. I thought my skin might be peeling off in little curls. I felt like I was being fried in a giant pan.

My fingers protesting as I gripped onto the edge of the jetty, I pulled myself out of the ocean, muscles limp after my unprecedented carnival ride, body charged with adrenaline and something else—a gift from the gods. The cow monster lumbered around, still bellowing. It was a wonder the planks didn't empty him into the ocean, that he didn't pitch headfirst into the water.

He was not quick. I was (kind of). I sidestepped his first strike, my feet moving of their own accord to keep myself alive. He barrelled past me, straight off the edge of the protesting jetty, into the ocean. The splash he made was easily triple my height. My new boat rocked on the waves and drunk in the seawater. Inch by inch, it began to sink. The whole pier shuddered. Perhaps a hundred metres away, the captain sputtered and choked, his boat overturned, his naval cap a few metres away. The white cap floated for a while before a yellowish spot appeared on the top and spread like honey engulfing a colony of ants.

For a split second, while I saw the monster sinking through the deep, I even thought that I could win. Until I realised that I had dropped my dagger when I'd tumbled through the ocean. Now I was empty-handed. And taunting would do no more against the monster.

The strength that the adrenaline rush gave me was readily slipping away. The Branokann seemed stronger than ever, if not floundering at the bottom of the bay. My heart sank. My fingers clutched at empty air. I was trapped.