As they sailed from the Lighthouse at the End of the World, caught in the fringes of colliding storms, Criston felt as if all the strands of his life had knotted together in this place, at this moment. Spray flooded over the deck, thunder and lightning clashed in the angry clouds overhead. The beacon from the ancient tower pierced the thickening squall even as the Dyscovera pulled away.
As he willed his ship to greater speed, Criston’s cold anticipation was stronger than his dread. The storm seemed familiar, and this time he understood what it meant. The Leviathan! Now that he knew Adrea was still alive, he vowed that this monster would not take her away from him again.
He called over the storm noise, “I would ask you to pray for us, Prester, but I doubt it would do any good.”
Hannes stood in the cold rain as if he had something to prove to himself, wrestling with his internal fury after leaving Mailes. “Prayer always helps, Captain—in one fashion or another.” But it was an automatic answer; the man’s doubts were inscribed on his troubled face as clearly as words in a journal.
As worsening winds drove the Dyscovera onward, one of the canvas sails tore, and a rope whipped free, flailing about like a wild animal trying to escape. Together, Javian and Mia struggled to pull it down and fastened it to a stanchion. An unexpected swell curled over the side, knocking Mia off her feet. Javian yelled after her as she fought for any sort of handhold. She clutched a loose crate. It tumbled and rolled, so she grabbed on to the capstan instead. The crate flew overboard and was lost in the wild sea. Javian recklessly sloshed forward to grab Mia’s arm, and they huddled together on the capstan. The wave passed, and as the waters drained from the deck, the two held each other, panting and frightened.
Lightning struck again. Criston saw a shadow moving through the water—a dangerous form, like a nightmare embodied. “All hands on deck!” he bellowed, though many crewmembers would be reluctant to emerge from shelter. “I need every man here!”
The word was passed, and a dozen bedraggled men fought their way into the storm. Criston urged them along. “Break out the harpoons and spears—I need every man armed and ready! This will be the fight of our lives.”
Since Adrea was alive out there, he had to survive. Criston tried to penetrate the driving rain with his gaze. The pearlescent ice-dragon horn attached to the bow did not glow. Perhaps Raathgir’s protection drove away sea serpents…but not the Leviathan.
Soaking wet and still shaky, Javian and Mia got back to their feet and armed themselves. The crew took up harpoons and spears, shielding themselves from the downpour, looking for a target.
“Our faith will protect us, Captain!” Hannes shouted. “Do not be afraid.”
Criston narrowed his eyes. “Even Ondun regretted creating the Leviathan, Prester. We should all be afraid.”
As if it had merely been waiting for the Dyscovera’s crew to gather their laughable weapons, the dark monster of the deep breached the frothing waves. The Leviathan’s body was cylindrical, its snout tapered to a point at the end of a mouth as large as a sea cave. From the middle of its brow a single milky eye stared out with a cold and demonic glow completely unlike the bright gleam of the lighthouse beacon. A line of spines surrounded its head and gills, like the frill of a poisonous lizard.
Criston’s sailors threw their harpoons against the armored gray hide, and the sharpened iron tips struck sparks off the scales, but they barely made the Leviathan twitch. The beast let out a sound like a deep, lonely groan, exhaling a cold wind that stank of rotted fish guts and deadly plague.
The creature lifted sets of tentacles, each like a writhing cobra tipped with another fanged mouth and bright eyes in search of prey. The tentacles clasped the Dyscovera’s deck rails, splintering the wood, chewing through the hull.
Like a man caught up in a spell, Criston strode toward his nemesis. This monster had destroyed the Luminara, ruined his life, killed Captain Shay and all of his shipmates. He remembered that last night as clearly as any Saedran chartsman could recall the details of a map: Captain Shay had run forward to hurl a spear into the monster’s eye…and when he missed, the Leviathan lurched onto the Luminara’s bow and devoured the captain in a single gulp.
Now Criston threw the first harpoon at hand, which plunged into the monster’s gaping maw, piercing the soft pink flesh. “Tonight, one of us will die!”
The fanged appendages grabbed the masts and snapped spars like twigs. Two of the tentacles seized sailors, while another one tore off great chunks of flesh and tossed the morsels overboard to be eaten later.
While the storm continued to rage, the monster let out another slow, rumbling groan and opened its mouth wider. Panicked, sailors threw their spears, and a few wobbly archers loosed a volley of arrows. Sen Aldo dove to the deck as a tentacle swooped overhead. Criston grabbed another harpoon and did not flinch from where he stood.
The Leviathan drew back, intent on destroying the ship. From beneath the water, it rammed the Dyscovera with its bullet-shaped snout. The sailing ship heeled to port, nearly capsizing, and a long crack shivered down the side. The fanged tentacles reached out to snap the mainmast in half and tore away the mainsail.
Prester Hannes leaned against the foremast, gripping his fishhook pendant. His eyes were closed in fervent prayer, and the expression on his scarred face was oddly peaceful.
Criston shut out the sounds of cracking wood and screaming men. Time seemed to stop for him as he gathered his courage and determination. He called for help, summoning allies who hated the Leviathan as much as he did, if not more. He prayed they would arrive before it was too late.