Heart of the Kraken (Tales from Darjee)

by Exley, A. W.

  No light broke her prison, not even the tiniest sliver.

  As if I want to see the walls of my prison.

  She slammed her fists against the lid but it didn't budge. She rolled onto her stomach and used her powerful tail to strike out, again to no effect. She fought against the metal surrounding her until her nails were ragged and bleeding and she exhausted her body. Only then did the tears run down her face and mingle with the water as she cried into the void. Even in the darkest evening below, a shaft of moonlight could pierce the depths of ocean. Luminescent fish became lights, emitting a soft glow. Here was pure black like the deepest abyss but without even the bobbing light of an angler fish to act as a guiding star.

  Stranded above the water she dwelt in a dry hell. As she endured her captivity, the sea water around her turned stale and fetid. Men laughed as they destroyed her life and treated her like caught mackerel. She withstood their poking and prodding in silence. One slid a blade under her gills and she froze in case he slit her throat. In hindsight, she should have let him. It was only when they dropped the lid and entombed her did she break down and weep. The salt of her tears mingled with the sea that shared her confinement.

  Time lost all meaning. Shut away in the dark box, she no longer saw the rise of the moon or the harsh sunlight. Torn from the ocean, she lost the rhythm from the ebb and flow of tides. The container barely offered enough room to stretch cramped muscles, she could not swim or flick her tail. Boredom and confinement shredded her mind and she screamed until her voice gave out and only a harsh whisper escaped her lips.

  Then someone would throw open the lid and blind her sensitive eyes. A fresh bucket of water would be sluiced over her form and if she were lucky, they would toss in a fish for her to eat. She heard their words, she knew the fate that awaited her. They captured her so that another landwalker could eat her heart.

  But today was different. Today, the other man came, the one with greed in his gaze. The tang of blood washed the air and mingled with the sweat of her captors. He asked questions about her and then the lid slammed shut, trapping her in a warm, foetid dungeon. Shouts and cries were muffled through the steel but the slosh of water told her she was being moved.

  Buffered back and forth through the thick metal came the dim cries and shouts of men. A thud as her tomb shook and dropped, then nothing. She held her breath, waiting. Jostled and thumped they had no real concern for her wellbeing for they planned to kill her anyway. Perhaps they sought to tenderise her flesh. The rattle came as the padlock drew through the lock and then a hand levered the lid up. Her crate seemed flooded with light as bright as the sun. She raised her hands and protected her face until her eyes adjusted. Long blinks and the sun dimmed to a dull lantern.

  A man stood over her, looking down, lantern in his hand. Seeing her shy from the light, he hung it from a hook in the ceiling, away from her face. She blinked, letting her vision adjust.

  This landwalker stood tall and lean with broad shoulders. He wore pale breeches with knee high brown boots and a sword at one hip and a pistol strapped to the other. A rough linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows encased a muscled torso. Black swirls and lines swooshed down his forearms and around his wrists. Hair the colour of sand curled around his collar where it escaped from his queue. He gazed at her from a face with a strong jaw and the burr of whiskers.

  "Do you have a name?" he asked.

  A name? He addressed her like an equal seeking an introduction. A simple question but one loaded with meaning. For the first time in her long confinement, someone extended the smallest bit of courtesy and reminded her she had a mind and could think. His words speared through her heart. She shut her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek.

  She looked up to meet a gaze of clear grey, like the sky after a storm passed overhead. "Ailin," she whispered.

  "Ailin," he repeated the syllables. "I am Fenton." He tapped his chest.

  "Fenton," she repeated back to him.

  He nodded. "Yes. Do you need anything?"

  She blinked, taken aback. An enquiry as to her needs. Was this a new trap? Did the landwalkers seek to torture her in a new manner? She sat up and leaned over the edge of her prison and surveyed the room beyond. The men had moved her to a new location. This hold soothed her eyes with its single soft light. Crates of different sizes were stacked neatly around the room and secured with ropes. Groups of barrels were lashed together. The slap of water against the hull tormented her senses, so close and yet no way to sink into its depths.

  Her brain looked for a tiny piece of hope, was there a way out? The hold contained only two possible ways to escape, one a tiny porthole that would never take her body and the other a set of stairs up to the deck. With no legs, the only way to master the steps would be to drag herself up unless she could convince someone to carry up her on deck.

  "Water," she said.

  "To drink?" He frowned.

  She splashed a hand through the contents of the crate. "I do not like this."

  He glanced down at her prison and then took a sniff. "When did they last give you fresh sea water?"

  "I do not know," to her ears her voice rasped from long disuse and the hours of crying. Screaming into the dark strained her vocal cords.

  He looked around the room and from one side collected two large pails. "Will you be all right if I empty this out first?"

  "Yes. Could I sit, please?" How she longed to escape, if not the ship, then at least the tiny hell hole that contained her. Her body protested many missed tides in the same cramped position.

  He glanced around and dragged over a crate. "May I pick you up?"

  She nodded, not trusting her abused voice. The kindness must be a trap, a new way to torment the fish. A way to pound her flesh to make it more tender for their lady to consume.

  He stooped down and slipped one arm under her tail and another around her back.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled. He reminded her of the ocean, a fresh salt breeze captured in his hair and skin but it danced and mingled with something darker that tugged at her senses. His flesh was warm against her chilled skin. Muscles flexed in his arms and back as he lifted her and held her close to his chest.

  Powerful and yet gentle like the sperm whale that allowed the children to play over his form. A sigh welled in her chest. For a moment as he held her, she felt safe. A dangerous emotion when in the grasp of a landwalker.

  Fenton set her down on the crate and stepped back. She stretched her arms up over her head and a crack came from her neck as she worked her joints loose. At last, she could wiggle her tail without hitting hard metal. With her hands on the wood under her, she flicked her tail side to side and fluttered her fins.

  He watched her with a strange look on his face and then shook his head. "It won't take long to refresh your water." He dipped the buckets into the sour water and then disappeared up the dark stairs where a small shaft of light told her the sun shone outside. Back and forth, he worked, first emptying and then refilling. With each fresh bucket, he brought the taste of her home closer to her. The ocean swirled in each container and caught on his skin and clothing.

  How long since she swam free? Tears pricked at her eyes and she wiped them away.

  "That should be more palatable," he said at last. The buckets were dropped back in a corner and he picked up her.

  With care he placed her back in the prison. He had taken the water from close to the surface where it basked in the warm caress of the sun. Was it deliberate so she wasn't too chilled? She closed her eyes and ducked below the surface. This tiny sliver of sea whispered of the world beyond and told her the phase of the moon by showing its journey through the tide cycle. She sat up and licked the salt from her skin. They were far from her home, she tasted nothing familiar in this stretch of ocean.

  Her new captor paused with his hand on the steel lid.

  "How far are we from Darjee?" she asked.

  He straightened. "Not long. About two weeks."

 
"No, not long." She tried to smile but there was no humour in his pronouncement. In two weeks' time, her heart would be carved from her body and served as a meal.

  Chapter Four

  Dark fell and the crew rotated through the mess for their evening meal. Reis invited Fenton, Yusuf, and Maynard to his cabin under the poop deck, to share a quiet meal. Their stew and bread was accompanied by a liberal four fingers of rum.

  "To us, gentlemen," Reis offered the toast. "Our best payday ever."

  Three mugs tapped but Fenton gazed into his. They were celebrating the capture and eventual sale of a mermaid like she was a side of beef. He hated his prison but at least he wouldn't show up on the menu. The similarities between his situation and Ailin's pressed him down and he slumped in his chair.

  Reis nudged his mug against Fenton's and the liquid sloshed against the side. The rich spiced aroma filled his nostrils and warmed his brain.

  The rum warmed the captain's usual chilly demeanour. "What troubles you, Fenton? You have always been our intellectual with your nose in a book."

  Fenton glanced around the table at the happy men, soon to be very wealthy, happy men. "Can we really sell her?"

  Reis barked in laughter. "Of course we can. It's a fortune in gold and Sunshine, of course we can sell it."

  "Her, not it. She is female and possesses a mind like you and I." His hand tightened around the tankard, how could they not see the intelligence in her eyes?

  Reis set down his drink and glared at Fenton. "It is a fish as cold and remorseless as the ocean that would drag you to the bottom and hold you there just to watch your lungs burst."

  He shook his head. It didn't sit right. He conversed with Ailin, she displayed an intelligence and awareness of her predicament. The mermaid stirred something buried so deep within him—he had thought that the ore-mancers removed it – his soul awakened. His heart quickened to be near her and his hands itch to touch her. He had only known her a day and already he wanted more. He counted the moments until he could return to the hold and talk to her again. He found more humanity and companionship in the supposed fish than he did in most of the crew.

  Laughter rang round the cabin. "Remember it is a mermaid, Fenton. They will do anything to escape captivity, even make lush promises their fish bodies can never deliver upon. Look closely, and you'll find its lower half sealed tighter than a barrel of gunpowder floating in water. Many a man drowned before he figured out there's no hole for his wick."

  Fenton raised his gaze to meet the captain's black eyes, there was something in the way he spat out the words. Each one tinged by bitter experience. "Have you encountered a mermaid before?"

  Reis took a long draft from the rum. "Aye. More than twenty years ago. I was in my early twenties and first mate on this ship. A storm blew us off course in the southern Bantea Ocean. We encountered three of them basking in the sun on a rocky outcrop." His voice softened and his gaze drifted with the memory. "They were the most glorious creatures I had ever seen. Five crew drowned in their embrace before we mended the sail and got away from there."

  "Five men?" A frown creased Fenton's forehead and pulled his brows together. "How?"

  "We spent weeks at sea with only ugly mugs like this to stare at." He waved at Yusuf's broad face with its wide flat nose. "Beautiful, naked women were honey to bears. Twelve men climbed into a long boat to avail themselves of their obvious charms. Only seven returned to the ship. The mermaids dragged the others beneath the waves, including my brother." His jaw stiffened as he ground his teeth on the last word.

  Fenton struggled to imagine Ailin killing sailors, pulling them below the water and smiling while they fought for air and clawed to break free. But then, what did he know of mermaids? No, there was more to Reis' story, coloured by his personal loss. His gut told him a gentle soul dwelt in Ailin, not a hardened killer.

  Reis rapped a nail against this tankard. "And that, Mr Fenton, is how we can sell it. It would slaughter us all in our sleep if it were able. Keep your wits about you while in its presence."

  The meal continued with much laughter and the moon illuminated the deck when they returned to their sleeping quarters. Fenton's position as first mate afforded him the luxury of an alcove with a real bed and a shelf for his meagre belongings. Not that he possessed much. Being tethered to the Razor's Edge there was no life onshore awaiting him. No family in a quaint cottage to support. No plans of buying a tavern and retiring to tell tall stories about his adventures. He spent his coin on books and in each port he sought out a new volume to add to his collection. He lost himself in the imagery of poetry and explored worlds forever beyond his reach.

  Once, years ago, the men laughed at him for his interest in poetry but they quickly learned you don't make fun of the man who controls the kraken. The sailor who tossed a beloved book over the side found himself hauled up by a tentacle and shoved underwater to retrieve the sodden object. The only other thing on his shelf was a tiny dolphin carved from jade. There was something about the smooth lines of the creature that soothed his mind, he stroked his thumb over the arch of its back as he stared at the book in his hand. This evening the words jumbled and ran over the page echoing the turmoil in his mind.

  The Razor's Edge carried a crew of one hundred and kept three bunk rooms. The thirty men shared the same space as Fenton. Yusuf, as quartermaster, also had an alcove in the adjourning wall to Fenton. The rest swung in hammocks, packed so close in the room it seemed a demonic spider had cast its web from wall to wall and captured the men. Lockers took up all of one wall and housed their meagre personal belongings. Larger items were kept in the hold below the water line. Each hammock had a thin canvas mat protecting the occupant from the coarse netting and gave some comfort from the cold that seeped upward. At the stern of the ship, the engineer fired up the engine and a rumble vibrated through the hull as they switched to steam power and chugged through the night. Although with coal running low, they would restrict their speed until they could reach an island outpost to restock. It would add days to their journey.

  He wished he pulled a night watch as there would be little sleep gained tonight. The men were too busy discussing how to spend the gold their cargo would net. They talked of nothing but the mermaid they found aboard the scientific vessel and the fortune that would soon line their pockets. They dreamed of attractive whores instead of the tired toothless hags that plied the docks. Or never ending jugs of beer to slack their thirst. A few wanted to buy trinkets to please some woman they had tucked up in a port.

  Fenton didn't care for gold, he had a chest full of it in the hold. What could it buy him? Freedom? He would never live onshore. A stable land mass under his feet made him as sick as a green gilled youngster on his first day at sea. Reis would never let him go, not so long as the captain stood at the helm. He abandoned the book of sonnets and stared at the timbers running over his head. This was his life until the day either Reis departed it or he did. They were bound together by the ore-mancers and the gauntlet on the captain's arm. In some ways, he was as trapped as the mermaid, he just had a larger crate to prowl.

  "So is it a fish or a woman?" Dinger asked.

  Of course it's a woman," Yusuf laughed. "She has tits. Nice firm ones too, by the look."

  The answer didn't satisfy Dinger. "But she's missing the other bits. She's got a tail. How do you fuck a tail?"

  Laughter erupted and the conversation dropped to a level of coarseness that made Fenton close his ears. She was no fish, she had a name: Ailin. And she was stunning in a strange way. Not rounded, soft and beautiful like women with two legs. Ailin's face had a strong structure that hinted of an equally resilient nature. High cheekbones and a set to her jaw made her appear defiant, even in captivity. Her eyes were the depths of the ocean, inviting a man to plunge within and try to learn her hidden secrets. His body stirred as he remember the feel of her in his arms. The curve of her waist and firm breasts pushed against his shirt. Even the drape of her tail over his arm had a sensual touch.


  Foolish, he chastised himself. Mermaids were known as sirens of the ocean for a reason. They lured sailors beneath the waves where water filled their lungs and men drowned with smiles on their faces. Seeing Ailin, he could understand why men would throw themselves overboard into the siren's embrace. He sought a more comfortable position in his cot. He sometimes availed himself of the prostitutes that came aboard but relieving the physical urge left him empty. Few made eye contact with him. The crew whispered of his connection to the kraken and the women either viewed him with fear or disgust.

  An ache gnawed in his chest. A need for something greater he couldn't name or identify.

  "So what about the legend then?" a voice cut through his introspection.

  "What legend?" Yusuf said.

  "That if you eat the heart of a mermaid, you know all the secrets of men. How does that work, then and what would you know?" The curious Dinger was full of questions tonight.

  "I dunno. They can compel a man to do their bidding, maybe their hearts are the core of their magic." Yusuf pulled his blanket over his body and tucked himself in, making a cocoon so his body wouldn't roll to the floor during the night. "Can't say I'd want Lady Alise carving my heart out while I'm still alive."

  "What do you think, Mr Fenton?" Timmy whispered from his hammock next to the foot of Fenton's alcove. The lad wore his patch over his telescopic eye and his natural eye was wide with wonder. He listened to the men's chatter but said little. "What is she like?"

  "Frightened and alone." He spoke without thinking about the words.

  Timmy's gaze narrowed. "Does she know what's going to happen to her?"

  He thought of her words before he locked her in. How far are we from Darjee? "Yes, Timmy. She knows."

  He chewed his lip. "Poor thing. The waiting must be horrid."

  At least the lad held on to his humanity and displayed some empathy for another creature. The rest of the crew lost theirs years ago. Ailin's value was measured in gold and the drug Sunshine. Only Fenton and Timmy gave any thought to her suffering, the torment she endured knowing what fate awaited her as the minutes slid by and brought it closer.