Jax angled himself toward the glow of the exterior lights. They were beacons of hope in the vastness of the sea, a steady reminder that the kraken had a home, that the wrongs done to them in the past had not gone unpunished.
Two lights stood apart from the main building, a few body lengths from the door. When hunting parties left, they draped a net between the two posts. It signified their absence, and was meant as encouragement for those who remained — should we not return, you have the means to hunt, and we know you will be successful.
There was no net today; Arkon would be somewhere inside.
Jax stopped before the entrance door and pressed the buttons on the keypad beside it. Every kraken was taught the sequence from a young age, though the meaning of the symbols on the buttons had been lost to history. The light over the door changed from red to green, and it slid open.
He swam into the dim entry chamber and pressed the interior button. The door closed behind him, and the water drained from the room.
“Pressurization normalized,” the Computer said; this gentle, female voice was only one of the many it used.
The inside door hissed and opened. Pure, white light filled the hallway ahead. Jax took hold of the grip over the doorway and swung himself through. Water streamed off him as he moved down the hall, flowing into the drain channels on either side.
As infrequently as he visited since achieving adulthood, Jax knew this place well from his youth. Kraken younglings learned much in these hallways and chambers — from their elders, from the Computer, and from the ghosts.
He moved at a quick pace, pulling himself forward with arms and tentacles, and soon entered the largest — and strangest — room in this building.
The scent of old chemicals lingered in the Pool Room’s humid air, fouling each breath. Large metal lockers lined one wall, and various equipment Jax could not identify was scattered throughout the space. Some of it looked like the clothing humans wore. In the center of the room was a huge pool of water.
Jax moved to one of the floor hatches and tugged it open, lowering himself into the hallway below. Huge, clear windows ran along the entire inside wall, allowing an unhindered view of the pool.
Arkon was in the water, floating above his latest work. Thousands of stones were spread on the floor beneath him, carefully arranged by color to create intricate, flowing patterns. He reached down with the tip of a tentacle to adjust some of the stones.
Reaching forward, Jax tapped his knuckles on the glass. Arkon turned in a torrent of bubbles, skin flaring yellow before shifting back to its normal blue-gray. He smiled and signed that he would come up.
Jax climbed the ladder, emerging from the lower chamber just as Arkon drew himself out of the pool.
“You must be nearly done,” Jax said.
Arkon dropped his bag on the floor; the stones inside clacked together. “I have almost finished the base layer, but it will take many more days to achieve balance in the patterns.”
When they were younglings, Arkon had been fascinated by the human ghosts in the facility and had spent long hours listening to them and speaking with the Computer. He knew words the others did not understand; did he know what a gardener was?
Jax moved to the edge of the pool and looked down. Arkon’s work was distorted by the reflection of the overhead light on the water’s surface, but the overall design was clear. The large, central circle was surrounded by rings of varying size, all of which were connected by swirling patterns that reminded Jax of water current. The shifts in color from one portion to the next were subtle but unmistakable.
He’d watched Arkon work for long enough to know that each stone had been placed with purpose, following instructions only Arkon could see.
Jax was a hunter, a warrior, a restless explorer, but he envied Arkon’s skill. The others called it useless, but wasn’t there something to be said for a pleasing image? Wasn’t there some value in something that could instill feeling in a single glance, even if that feeling was fleeting?
“I do not have the words to describe it, Arkon.”
“Incomplete. Unsatisfactory. Ordinary.” Arkon blew mist from his siphons. “Uninspired. It is missing something.”
Tilting his head, Jax swept his eyes over Arkon’s work. Even with the individual stones blurred by the water, the intricacy and detail were apparent. Arkon had never crafted anything on such a scale, and it was, in Jax’s opinion, his most impressive work yet.
“It needs…heart,” Jax said. “Something in the center, to give it life.”
Arkon leaned forward and peered into the pool. His skin shifted toward blue. “Yes. A centerpiece. Something…of a different shade than all the rest. I wish you would stay for longer periods. Things are easier when you are here.”
“I’m leaving again.”
“I know.” Arkon moved to his bag, hunched down, and rummaged through its contents.
“You know?”
“You always go, Jax the Wanderer. It is your nature. How far will you trek this time?”
“Not far. A few days, perhaps.”
Lifting a smooth stone from the bag, Arkon held it in his palm and turned it, examining it briefly before he replaced it. “Good. Dracchus will likely call a hunt soon, and, though he despises you, he is displeased when you are not here to join.”
“To the abyss with Dracchus.”
Arkon lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug without ceasing his search. “You know how the rest are. They respect your prowess, though they distrust you because you are so often away. As strange as they think me, they at least always know where I am.”
“If we wish to survive as a people, we will need to leave this place one day. Where will we go if someone like me does not find another place for us to dwell? I endanger only myself.” Even as he spoke the words, Jax knew they were what Arkon would call a half-truth.
Such selfless reasons for Jax’s treks were hollow justification. At heart, he could not deny the call to wander; it was in his blood. Staying too long in any single place made him restless and fouled his mood. He needed open water, needed the thrill of the unknown, needed to be away from the pointless posturing of the other kraken.
How would he react to the news that Jax had captured a human, and was keeping her as his own? If Jax had hundreds of questions for her, Arkon would have thousands.
“Vanishing every few days will not convince them of that, Jax. You’ve known this for a long while.”
“I am not interested in convincing them of anything. The others can think for themselves and decide what they will. I’ll continue to hunt for our food and scout new areas, regardless.”
Arkon closed his bag and rose. “I know what I need!”
“What?”
“If you come across a shard of halorium — the glowing stones the ancients used to harvest — would you bring it to me?” He returned to the edge of the pool and stared over his work. “It would serve as the perfect heart for this piece.”
“Those stones do strange things to the Facility,” Jax said. In the presence of halorium, lights flickered, the ghosts were broken and distorted, and the Computer’s voice was crackly and faint. Larger stones produced more powerful effects.
“There are still containers for them, in the Underneath. That will allow you to bring one inside without causing issues.”
“But once it is removed from the container—”
“Make it a small one, then. The pool is isolated enough that a small shard shouldn’t adversely affect the functions of the nearby equipment.”
Jax could only stare at his friend; Arkon’s skin pulsed with his excitement, and his eyes were bright, viewing possibilities no one else could see.
“I will watch for one,” Jax finally said.
“Thank you. May the currents carry you where you would go, Jax.”
“And may the stones fall as you would have them lie, Arkon.”
As Arkon plucked up his bag and plunged back into the pool, Jax exited the chamber and ma
de his way back to the entry doors. He entered the sequence.
“Please wait while the chamber is prepared,” the computer said.
The floor hummed as unseen machines did their work. Jax inhaled deeply; it was a short wait, but that made it no more bearable. This was the last barrier between him and the sea. The door finally opened, and he entered the small chamber; another push of a button, and the room flooded.
When he emerged, his attention was drawn immediately to the kraken gathered near the detached lights ahead. A small group ringed a pair of males who were locked in a dance.
The larger of the two was Dracchus; his skin pulsated from black to red as he moved, powerful tentacles spinning through the water in a blur. The motion created new patterns, blurs of brightness and splashes of color that whirred by with increasing speed, complexity, and ferocity. The other male struggled to keep up, but he could not match Dracchus’s power and aggression.
Their dance descended into chaos as the two suddenly charged one another. The eruption of thrashing tentacles was too frantic for Jax to track, but the males separated almost as quickly as they’d attacked. The challenger slunk backward, skin pale in admission of his defeat.
Jax swam forward. Such spectacles were popular for onlookers, but held no true meaning. Dracchus was strong — everyone knew it, and required no further proof.
As he passed the gathering, Dracchus — his skin reverted to its normal black — caught Jax’s gaze and held it. Crimson flared on Dracchus’s shoulders; a challenge.
Jax held Dracchus’s eyes for a few more heartbeats and turned away, not slowing his pace. Something far more important — and more interesting — waited for him elsewhere.
Chapter 4
Macy remained huddled beside the barrel long after Jax left, crying until she had no tears left to shed, and hated herself for it. What did it solve? What had crying ever done to help her?
She was still stuck in this cavern, more miserable than before.
She rubbed her tired eyes with the heels of her hands and released a slow, shaky breath. She needed to do something. Anything but sit here, waiting.
Lowering her arms, Macy looked around the cavern, halting her gaze on the vegetation hanging at the sides of the waterfall. Her eyes followed their path up the steep cliffside.
She thrust the idea aside before it went any further. Climbing was suicide. One slip and she’d plummet to the rocks below. If that didn’t kill her instantly, she’d be left broken, suffering through immense pain until she finally expired — alone. When the time came, and desperation demanded the attempt, she’d try, but it wasn’t yet worth the risk.
That left escaping by water.
Macy stared at the dark side of the cave. Sunlight shone on the rippling surface, casting shattered reflections on the ceiling. Jax hadn’t been specific on how he brought her in here, but there had to be some sort of tunnel hidden in the darkness.
Her legs and backside protested as she uncurled herself and crawled to the edge of the island. She leaned forward and peered into the cerulean water. Small plants swayed amidst the rocks below. It was shallow now, but the tide was receding, and it was likely deeper toward the rear of the cave.
Sharp rocks dug into her palms as she clutched the edge.
I can do this.
This wasn’t the unforgiving ocean with huge, battering waves that would drag her into the abyss. It was an enclosed pool of water.
Shifting her legs around, she sat on the edge and paused. She ran her gaze over the frayed hem of her dress, over the splotches of dirt marring the once white, crisp fabric. Fingering a tear near her knee, she closed her eyes.
She had to believe Camrin was alive. She couldn’t…couldn’t consider the alternative.
Steeling herself, Macy slid into the water. It was chilly against her sun-warmed skin. She waded forward, and it slowly rose past her hips until it reached her chest. Her dress floated around her in the current produced by the waterfall.
Macy spent what felt like hours searching the bottom, feeling with her toes and stepping carefully. The water became too deep to stand in as she neared the shadowed area; she dove under a few times, but all she found was more rock. She stopped at the edge of the sunlight, treading water, and stared ahead. The cave wall in the back was visible, but she couldn’t see the bottom of the water.
It was just a little farther. A little more to explore. She bit her lip and urged herself forward, but her limbs didn’t respond.
There was no telling how deep it was, or what awaited in that darkness.
Defeated and exhausted, Macy returned to the island and hauled herself out of the water. She wrung out her dress before she collapsed.
After allowing her limbs a rest, she forced herself up and rummaged through the various containers, removing items and arranging them around her feet. She picked up a ratty brown teddy bear; it was missing an eye and one leg, and most of the stuffing had fallen out. Lowering it, she shifted her gaze to the other items; netting, rope, shells, tools both familiar and foreign, and objects she had no name for.
She glanced up at the opening in the ceiling; the sunlight had been intense through most of the day, and even with the cooling mist from the waterfall, it was hot. If she was going to stay here, some sort of shelter would be necessary.
Macy cleared the space, returning most of the items to their containers, and shifted two of the barrels so they were a couple meters apart from each other. She stood a fishing pole in each, securing the poles by stuffing objects around their handles. As she replaced the tools, she discovered a knife.
She peered over her shoulder, as though Jax would suddenly appear and pluck the knife away, before settling her attention on the blade.
It was old; that was clear by its lack of rust and light weight. This wasn’t metal forged after the colonization; it was an advanced material that couldn’t be produced on Halora. And the edge was sharp.
Taking up a length of rope, she trimmed it into several smaller pieces. Then she unfurled the canvas, cut holes at the corners to loop the rope through, and stretched it between the fishing poles. She pulled the free end tight and anchored it with a pair of heavy crates. When she was done, she wrapped the knife in a spare shirt and set it aside.
Macy stood in front of the makeshift shelter and surveyed her work; it was crude, but it was shady, and that was all that mattered right now. She crawled beneath the canvas, thankful to be out of the sun.
The shifting shadows on the ground marked the passage of hours as the sun progressed across the sky. When would Jax return? What if he didn’t come back at all? She pushed the thoughts aside, but the more she fought them, the more she thought of him.
He’d called his people kraken. The name was vaguely familiar; she’d heard stories growing up, mostly from her father and the other fisherman, about giant beasts, sea serpents, and monsters. But they were just that — stories. Myths. The sea was home to countless creatures, and long, uneventful voyages under the blazing sun could easily muddle a person’s perception. A three-meter-long fish became a thirty-meter fish fairly easily, under such circumstances.
But none of those stories had mentioned anything like Jax. How had humans lived on Halora for centuries without knowing of the kraken’s existence?
For all his similarities to a human, the differences were striking and unsettling; Jax was equally fascinating and frightening. But he hadn’t hurt her. His curiosity had mirrored hers as they examined one another.
She settled her hand over the spot on her neck where he’d touched her. He’d been gentle. He’d even called her delicate. In any other situation, she might have laughed. She was slim, but she wasn’t fragile; she worked as hard as any man or woman back home.
But she’d felt his strength. If he wanted to break her, he could do so with little effort.
Still, his touch hadn’t been unpleasant, nor did his face repulse her like it should have. She was ashamed to admit to herself that the contact between them had elicit
ed a powerful reaction from her body. Despite her uncertainty and fear, she’d felt something when his tentacle slid along her inner thigh. Something there.
Macy squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists.
Jax wasn’t even human! How could her body betray her like that? Why would she respond to his touch when she rejected Camrin’s? Camrin, who had loved her for years, who was one of her best friends? Jax was holding her captive. She should be terrified of him.
She should hate him.
And yet…
By late afternoon, her stomach ached, and her tongue was thick and dry. She looked at the waterfall.
What choice did she have? It was fast-running water, as fresh and safe to drink as anything outside The Watch.
Macy grabbed a cup and a piece of cloth from one of the crates and lowered herself into the pool. She was just tall enough to stand on her toes and walk across, her chin brushing the surface. When she arrived at the narrow stone ledge beneath the waterfall, she set the cup down and hauled herself up. She rinsed the cup out and filled it through the cloth; without any way to boil it, it would have to be enough.
Pulling the cloth away, she brought the cup to her lips and drank. The water was heaven in her mouth; crisp, fresh, and cool. She drank three cups full before refilling it a final time. As she returned to the island, she held the cup of precious water high over her head.
She lay down under her shelter. Time passed slowly, and she was just drifting off when she heard a splash.
Jax made no attempt at stealth as he emerged from the water with three fish wriggling in the unyielding grip of his tentacles. The first thing to catch his attention was the makeshift shelter she’d constructed on the island. His eyes dropped as Macy, who lay beneath the raised canvas, lifted her head.
Her hair hung loose over her shoulders; it was fuller now that it had dried, and he imagined it would feel even softer. Seeing it brush over her skin made him long to touch her again.
She held his gaze as he approached, betraying no emotion. Jax was the first to look away; he pulled himself onto the land and stopped in front of the shelter, leaning forward to run the tip of a finger over the tight, neat knots she’d used to fasten the wind-cloth to the poles.
Treasure of the Abyss Page 4
