Deepstone (Secret Depths Book 2)

by Raymond Cain

  Copyright © 2017 Raymond Cain

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  If you haven’t read it yet, have a look for a novelette entitled Ruins of Scell – a prequel to the Seacret Depths Trilogy.

  Secret Depths Trilogy

  Seahaven — released early 2017.

  Deepstone — released mid 2017.

  Graveport — will be available late 2017.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The End

  From the Author

  Chapter One

  An ocean full of death spread out before Flynn.

  Death and destruction scarred the seascape. It had been months since an army of marine creatures tore through the human defenses and attacked Seahaven, the domed underwater city where he lived. The bones and shells of marine creatures poked out from the soil like an undead army on its way to finish the job their living counterparts couldn’t. Farms of seaweed, orach, and sea grapes, trampled during the onslaught, no longer waved in the current. Kelp trees were broken and plants were uprooted by the ensuing wave when his attack on a leviathan sent the creature plummeting into the seabed.

  Tiny explosions of grainy basalt followed his footsteps as Flynn walked along the ocean floor. Magical crystals in his boots enabled him to move as though he were on dry land and his headgear, an open-faced crystal helm, created an air pocket in front of his face allowing him to breathe and see clearly underwater. The water was brighter than usual, owing to the great number of magical, glowing predators scavenging the corpses. Food was everything to creatures six miles below the surface, and the gruesome feeding frenzy that followed the battle lured scavengers and predators from miles around.

  A frilled shark passed over him, its belly large after months of gorging itself on scavenging creatures. Flynn gripped the sword at his hip, a wide-bladed rapier with a basket hilt, and did not release it until the creature shrank in the distance. After months of scavenging, food was becoming scarce and the predators had begun feeding on each other. Many circled, warily assessing one another to determine which was predator or prey. The cleverest among them may have realized that when none of the others appeared to be easy targets, the next fish on the menu was likely itself.

  After ensuring there were no imminent threats, Flynn collapsed to his knees, giving rise to a small cloud of slowly falling sand. He wore armor made from chitin, the same sturdy material that protected crabs and lobsters, and he reached under articulated neck plates for a necklace his mother had given him. He removed the golden necklace and held a crystal pendant at the end of it in his palm, depicting a sword flanked by two fins. His eyes watered as he regarded the pendant, and the golden chain spilled out between his fingers.

  Two mounds of rocks stretched out before him and he laid his palm on the first one. “I miss you, Mom,” he said, a tear rolling down his cheek before reaching his chin and disappearing into the ocean. He squeezed the pendant and held it against his breastplates. “I still remember the day you gave this to me.”

  “And Dad,” he said, laying his palm on the second mound. “Thank you for saving me. For saving everyone.”

  The battle against Theoric and his ocean army echoed in Flynn’s thoughts. It was no easy decision to unleash his father on the azuran crew, knowing it would mean almost certain death for the man. It was the only way to save the city, but the guilt from that decision plagued him.

  More tears rolled down his cheeks and Flynn reached through the air pocket over his face and wiped them away. He donned the necklace, tucking it back under his armor, and glanced around for predators. Spotting none nearby, he started marching back to his ship when something caught his eye.

  A ship, a salari ship by the look of it, was floundering in the distance. The vessel was created from the shells of two giant turtles, fitted together into a roughly elliptical shape. It was difficult to tell at a distance, but a line of bubbles appeared to be trailing from the unusual ship and a handful of hammerhead sharks were circling. The vessel wobbled as it moved, as though something was amiss with its means of propulsion.

  “What happened to…?” Flynn said to himself, his voice trailing off as he feared what may have happened to the crew.

  The ship disappeared over a hill and another pair of hammerheads joined the others. The school of sharks was likely lured by a wisp of green, inky blood that trailed from the vessel alongside the bubbles. Flynn didn’t know what could have injured the salari inside their vessel, but he aimed to find out.

  Nestled in the soil a few steps away was Flynn’s Searunner. Power surged through the hull of the shining, crystalline vessel. As far as he knew, the aquazite ship was the fastest vessel in the depths, and clouds of slowly falling soil followed his footsteps as he ran toward it. His crystalline family ring flickered as he approached, triggering the enchantment to open a pair of hatch doors. The interior was air-filled, and the enchantment that kept it that way squeezed the water out of his clothing like a sponge when he pulled himself through the hatch.

  The liquid pilot’s chair felt like firm jelly when Flynn plopped down on it. The seat rippled and a pair of water belts washed over his shoulders, crossed over his chest, and cinched tight over his torso. The chair molded itself around his contours and a steering globe took shape in front of him, a watery sphere capable of steering the ship in any direction.

  Flynn shoved an acceleration lever forward and water smiled at the rumble as water rushed in from the front through hollow tubes within the hull. Soil, starfish, and mussels were sent flying as water expelled out the back. The ship launched forward, pulling him back into his seat, and a slight turn of the steering globe sent the Searunner skimming low over the seabed on an intersect course with the salari ship.

  The Searunner soared over a hill covered in a gently-swaying vegetation that reddened the water with their glow. A school of green, speckled fish with bulging eyes and elongated snouts hovered over a cluster of flower-covered, meat-eating plants until the ship came near. Flynn didn’t know what species they were until they swallowed water, inflating themselves to the size of small children.

  “Pufferfish,” Flynn said, angling the Searunner between the spherical creatures. Their increased size made them difficult to avoid and a few bounced off the hull. “Sorry, guys.”

  After cresting the hill, Flynn spotted the salari vessel laying in the dirt. A wide swath with charred edges was cut into the turtle shell hull, as though a giant flaming sword nearly cleaved the ship in two. Bubbles and blood leaked from the gap and the hammer
head sharks circled lower, as though waiting for the right moment to strike. Flynn brought the Searunner closer, watching warily for hammerhead sharks that might ram his vessel with their rock-hard skulls.

  A clamshell container fell from the gash in the ship’s hull and released its contents into the grainy soil. Gold, pearls, and rare, colorful seashells spilled out. Judging by their markings, the seashells looked to be more valuable than the rest of the contents.

  “Interesting,” Flynn said, his eyes widening at the wealth of precious items. He pulled his eyes away from the treasure and hovered over the broken hull, scanning for survivors. It was too dark to see inside; he’d have to get out of his ship to get a better look.

  Flynn set the Searunner down in a cluster of colorful anemone plants. After ensuring the hammerhead sharks were keeping their distance, he opened the hatch doors and pulled himself into the brine. Glancing nervously over his shoulder at the predators circling above, he spoke a command word into his crystal ring and it shone brightly, lighting up the interior of the salari vessel.

  Flynn’s shoulders slumped when he found no sign of salari, alive or dead, inside the ship. There were no weapons or equipment either. The vessel was empty.

  With eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, Flynn turned toward the treasure. He scooped up a handful of colored seashells and discovered some of their markings were rubbed off. They were ordinary shells, painted to appear valuable. Scooping up a handful of gold pieces and pearls revealed steel coins covered in shiny paint, and ordinary polished stones.

  “It’s fake,” Flynn said, pouring the worthless items from his fist like a glittering waterfall. “It’s all fake. The treasure. The ship. The blood. Why would…”

  He sensed activity behind him and grabbed the hilt of his sword, but it was too late. A kelp net was thrown over him and cinched tight.

  “I’m an idiot,” Flynn said as his feet were pulled out from beneath him. The net pinned his arms to his sides and he fell face-first into the soil.

  Chapter Two

  Face down in the dirt with ropes securing his arms and ankles, there was little Flynn could do when a crab crawled within an inch of his nose. It snapped its pincers eagerly, as though finally able to exact revenge on a too-powerful enemy. His only defense was blowing sand at the creature, and it appeared undisturbed as the grainy basalt rained down on its armored body.

  A scaly foot kicked the crab away and Flynn craned his neck to see who did it. Salari were considered one of the friendliest humanoids in the ocean depths, so he presumed another race was responsible for creating the elaborate trap. There were a great number of evil humanoid races in the deep, and many of those carried a grudge against humans.

  To Flynn’s surprise, he truly was captured by salari. Blue hair trailed down his captors’ green, scaly back, and fins protruded from their backs, arms, and legs. With practiced efficiency, their webbed fingers did not impair their ability to tie another rope around his net. Two salari kept Flynn secure, and two more stood behind them with bone-tipped spears at the ready.

  “Why are you doing this?” Flynn asked, unable to mask the desperation in his voice. “You’re salari!”

  One of the spear-wielding humanoids, a burly warrior wearing sharkskin armor and a golden earing in one ear, stared hard at Flynn. Its opaque green eyes appeared sorrowful as they regarded him. Air bubbles escaped from gills in its neck with each breath, and it muttered something in its native tongue. Its words sounded squeaky and bubbly, like a dolphin gargling water.

  One of the salari yanked Flynn up from the soil and threw him over its shoulder. Another picked up the Searunner by its tail of overlapping crystal plates and dragged it, carving a trail through the sand. Flynn and his ship were hauled toward four giant seahorses obediently waiting nearby. The seahorses lowered their bony heads as the salari approached, allowing the humanoids to mount. Once mounted, the seahorses used their fins and tail to move through the water. The salari controlled their mounts using fins on each side of the seahorses’ heads to steer them.

  The terrain became more and more uneven as they travelled and in time, they arrived at a salari settlement. There were hills in every direction with caves dug into them. Three of the salari, including the one carrying Flynn, entered one cave while a fourth hauled the Searunner into a different one. He made a mental note of which cave his Searunner disappeared into.

  Flynn was taken through a series of tunnels and he tried to memorize the route they took but he eventually lost his bearings. In time, his captors brought him into an air-filled chamber that had dirt on one side and water on the other. His ropes were untied and he was dumped unceremoniously onto the ground. His captors stripped his armor from him, then rifled through his things. They took his sword, dagger, and breathing helm, leaving him with only his clothing. The three salari took his belongings and left, disappearing under the water with barely a ripple to mark their departure.

  The air was musky, like the smell of freshly-dug earth, and five chains with manacles were secured to the wall. Glowing moss grew along the walls’ surface, lighting up the room in green and orange hues. To Flynn’s surprise, there was one other person in the room. A human male, a little younger than Flynn, was huddled in the corner. His clothes were fine, but dirty, and his dark hair was caked in mud.

  “Are you okay?” Flynn asked.

  The boy sat with his head buried between his knees and he looked up when Flynn spoke. A mat of muddy, black hair hung over his dark brown eyes and straight, thin nose. He wore a surcoat made from byssus cloth, an expensive silky material composed of mollusc filaments, and the symbol of a fist smashing a rock was embroidered on the breast. “Yes, I’m…wait, are you…Flynn? Flynn Arcturus?”

  Flynn squinted at the boy. It was difficult to identify him with all the mud on his face. “Fitch?” he asked. “Fitch Rocknugget?”

  “The one and only. I’ve been here ever since that marine army attacked Seahaven. How’d we do?”

  Flynn recalled Fitch fleeing the battle in his ship at top speed before the first enemy came anywhere near him. “We won,” he said, resisting the urge to comment on Fitch’s cowardice. “How did you end up here?”

  “During the battle, I decided to move my ship into a flanking position…”

  Flynn snorted, then composed himself as the boy continued.

  “But I got lost. And I happened upon a mermaid caught in a net. I was eager to help her, and perhaps get directions back home so I could rejoin the battle…”

  Flynn stifled a cough.

  “…but she wasn’t real,” Fitch said, seemingly oblivious to Flynn’s skepticism. “She was just a decoy, made from the skin of other marine creatures to resemble a mermaid in distress to trap the next good-hearted person that came along. Once I left my ship to assist her, they took me.”

  Flynn tried to appear genuinely moved by the distorted explanation of the events. “I was trapped too. They lured me with a ship in distress and a chest full of treasure. I wonder why they’re trapping people. You’ve been here for months now—did they use you for slave labor or…?”

  “Not for slave labor, no. Others have come and gone since I’ve been here,” Fitch replied. “And not just humans; all kinds of humanoid races. About once per week the salari bring a group of azurans in here who look at all the prisoners and take the five strongest-looking ones.”

  “Azurans,” Flynn repeated, his lips curled in hate. “What do they want with us?”

  Fitch shrugged. “Who knows? I’ve been lucky so far since there have been stronger captives to pick from. Yesterday I was in a different chamber and the salari brought in six burly-looking humanoid prisoners with skin like crocodiles and tempers to match. They moved me here, presumably so those things didn’t eat me.”

  “Those prisoners will likely be taken next, then,” Flynn reasoned. He looked around the chamber. “Why isn’t anyone guarding us?”

  “They don’t need to. It’s too far for us to swim back to our ships. And I don’
t even know where the ships are.”

  Five salari rose up through the water and Flynn flinched in surprise. He backed away as the scaly humanoids stepped onto the dirt.

  Four of the salari wore sharkskin armor and wielded bone spears with sharp teeth fitted into the blades. The fifth salari, a young female with long blue hair, picked up a stone bowl in the dirt as the guards protectively held spears in front of her. She returned to the water with the bowl and disappeared under the surface. The guards followed suit, never taking their eyes off the two prisoners until they were completely submerged.

  “What was that about?” Flynn asked.

  “They were collecting my food bowl. Today was meal day.”

  “Meal day? They don’t feed you every day?”

  “No,” Fitch replied, looking down wistfully. “Every second day is meal day. And it’s always the same thing, a bowl of soggy kelp. It’s too bad you didn’t get here an hour earlier; they probably would have fed you.”

  “You’re kidding,” Flynn said, and he regretted skipping breakfast that day. “So neither of us will see any food for two more days?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Fitch replied. “I’ve gotten used to it, more or less. But I know it’ll be hard for you so when they feed us next time, I can share some of mine.”

  Flynn was impressed. Perhaps Fitch wasn’t as terrible as he thought. Weeks of imprisonment seemed to have worked wonders on the young man’s character. “I appreciate that. A lot. But let’s each keep our own share.”

  “Thank you,” Fitch replied. “I do have some good news—water is plentiful here. There are thin streams meandering through that moss on the walls. It tastes terrible but it’s safe to drink.”

  Flynn walked up to the wall and sifted through the moss until he found a stream, no wider than his finger, weaving its way through the leaves. He cupped his hands together to collect some and he smelled it; it reeked of wet earth. He drank a mouthful and spat it out. It tasted like mud and sand particles were left behind on his teeth.