Chapter 1081: 1080: When The Sea Stands

The alarms were still ringing when Rasken swore.

"Damn it!"

His fist struck the window frame hard enough to crack the wood.

"We left our posts barely an hour ago!"

"Less than that," Veyra said.

Her green eyes hadn’t left the blazing section of The Wall.

"I checked the western waters before I came here. There was nothing. Nothing big enough to do that."

"The east was clear too," Rasken snapped. "I swept it twice."

Torvek turned his head slowly and looked at Rasken.

"That blow came from the southeast."

"I know where it came from."

"Then you know whose side it’s on."

Rasken’s jaw tightened.

"Are you saying I missed it?"

"I’m saying something that size doesn’t swim in from nowhere in an hour." Torvek’s voice stayed low and rough. "Either you missed it, or it was hiding deeper than any of us can sense."

"And your post was upstairs!" Rasken jabbed a finger at the gallery. "Shouldn’t you have seen something too?"

Torvek said nothing.

"Enough," Veyra cut in. "Argue later."

Another impact rolled across the harbor.

BOOM!

The floor jumped beneath their feet. Dust rained from the gallery, and the pale floor markings flickered.

Veyra turned toward Simon.

"We have to go. Each of us holds one side of The Wall. Rasken has the east, Torvek the south, I have the west, and our fourth holds the north."

Her expression was grim.

"If this is a distraction, the real attack could come from anywhere. We’ll talk later."

Simon nodded.

Rasken was already moving. He threw Simon a grin, though it was much thinner than before.

"Don’t wander off, sixth disciple."

The space around him folded, and he was gone.

Torvek stopped beside Simon. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"Don’t be reckless," he said. "And don’t die. I’d hate to explain that to the Sovereign."

Then the air bent, and he vanished too.

Veyra gave Simon one last look, then followed.

Simon stood alone in the empty practice hall, the bells ringing in his ears.

He reached into the space before him.

One step.

The world shifted, and he appeared on the roof of the Harbor Watch Hall.

Wind struck his face, carrying salt, smoke, and noise.

Vhal-Sar had woken up.

Bells rang from every tower. Along the terraces, rows of tall crystal pillars he hadn’t noticed before were lighting up one after another, golden beams shooting from their tips into The Wall above. The barrier drank the light, and the dented section in the southeast slowly began to straighten.

Down in the harbor, sailors were pulling in sails and hauling chains. Small boats rowed hard toward the docks. At the harbor’s mouth, a massive bronze gate rose from beneath the water, streaming foam as it locked into place.

The soldiers moved fastest.

Squads in matching shoulder guards ran along the white streets with long spears in hand. Officers shouted orders from balconies. On the lower walls, crews pulled covers from strange metal launchers carved with runes. Above the rooftops, dozens of flying Daegrins rose in tight formations and streaked toward the southeastern curve.

And the citizens…

Simon frowned.

There was no screaming.

Shopkeepers lowered their shutters without hurrying. A mother carried a sleepy child on her hip while holding a basket in her other hand. A line of children walked behind a teacher toward an arched stairway that led down into the rock beneath the city. Each child held the hand of the one in front.

An old Daegrin man with a cane waved away a guard who tried to help him, then continued down the street at his own pace.

A little boy stopped to stare at the glowing Wall. His grandmother tugged his arm without even looking up.

"Move along. You’ve seen it before."

They had.

That was what bothered Simon most. Panic he would have understood. This calm meant they had done it so many times that fear had become routine.

His gaze climbed toward the highest terrace.

Sky Eye.

His vision sharpened.

Figures were stepping out of the Varn residence onto the broad balcony above the lake.

Zarven came first, his purple robe stirring in the wind. There was no trace of the pleasant smile he had worn at breakfast. The runes in his square black ring were shifting rapidly.

Maelis stood beside him. Her jade fan was closed so tightly in her hand that her knuckles had paled.

Tavian was already speaking quickly to an aide, his braid swinging as he pointed toward the harbor. Darik stood near the railing with a sword at his hip, his usual scowl replaced by something tighter.

Neris had a hand on her mother’s sleeve. The blue butterfly still rested in her hair, but the playful light in her eyes was gone.

And Seraya…

She had changed into her dark-green coat. The Garrun from the sea stood before her, listening as she gave orders, her rings flashing each time she pointed.

Then she turned and looked toward the harbor.

For a moment, Simon felt as though their eyes met across the distance.

Every one of them wore the same solemn expression.

This morning, two of them had been laughing in his bed but now their expressions were solemn.

Simon shifted his attention back to The Wall.

Then he looked past it.

His breath slowed.

The sea was moving.

Not with waves.

With bodies.

From the base of The Wall to the edge of the mist, the water churned with beasts. Fins cut the surface. Scaled backs rolled over one another. Jaws opened and snapped shut. Long, eel-like creatures thrashed between crabs the size of houses, their saw-edged claws scraping at the golden barrier.

There were thousands.

The smaller ones hurled themselves against The Wall, struck it, and slid back down into the foam. Others climbed over them, using their bodies as steps. The water around the barrier had turned a dirty pink.

It looked as though the sea itself was boiling.

Simon’s eyes narrowed.

Something larger was rising behind them.

The water past the tide darkened. Then it bulged upward like a hill growing out of the ocean.

A head broke the surface.

It was purple-black and slick, wider than the Varn dining hall and was gleaming under the golden light of The Wall. Two enormous eyes opened on its sides, dull gold and round as lamps.

Then came the arms.

One.

Two.

Eight.

They rose like towers, so long they blocked part of the sky, water pouring from them in sheets. Rows of suckers covered their undersides, each as wide as a cart wheel, each ringed with curved hooks that glinted like knives.

The arms came down on The Wall.

BOOOOOM!

The hooks bit into the barrier and dragged. A horrible screeching sound tore across the harbor, and sparks of golden light sprayed wherever the hooks scraped.

Then the kraken groaned.

The sound was so deep that Simon felt it in his chest rather than his ears. The roof trembled beneath his feet. Down in the harbor, every moored ship rattled against the docks.

The Ironhook Kraken.

Simon was still staring at it when something to its left moved.

At first, he thought it was a reef. A long line of grey stone broke the surface and stretched across the water.

Then the stone rose.

It was scales.

Coil after coil lifted from the sea, each one thicker than a tower. A red fin ran along its back like a blade dipped in blood, cutting through the waves as the body twisted. Simon could see five coils above the water and still couldn’t tell where its tail ended.

Its head rose last.

It climbed higher than the harbor towers, narrow and wedge-shaped, with cold yellow eyes. Its jaws parted to reveal rows of needle-thin teeth.

Then it screamed.

SKREEEEEEEEEEE!!!

The sound cut straight through the bells. Windows cracked along the harbor. Soldiers on the walls dropped their spears and clutched their ears. Even Simon flinched.

Around the serpent, the water began to rise in thin, spinning sheets.

Blades.

The Redfin Serpent.

Simon could feel their pressure even through The Wall. It was both heavy and cold, and was pressing against his skin. This was what had kept the Daegrins awake for two years. Seeing it described at a dinner table was nothing like seeing it rise from the sea.

His hands slowly curled at his sides.

Then he heard it.

Beneath the screaming, beneath the bells and the groaning and the crash of beasts against the barrier, there was a sound.

It was soft.

It was a melody.

It was clear and sweet, drifting across the water like a lullaby sung on a quiet night. The other noises seemed to fade around it, as though the whole world had lowered its voice to listen.

The beasts stopped thrashing.

All at once, thousands of heads turned in the same direction.

Simon followed them.

Out in the mist, beyond the churning tide, something sat on a black rock rising from the sea.

From the waist up, it looked like a woman. Pale skin. Long white hair spilling over her shoulders and trailing into the water. Below her waist, a dark blue tail curled lazily around the stone, its fins swaying with the waves.

Her lips were parted.

She was singing.

Her eyes moved slowly along The Wall.

Then they stopped.

And for one long moment, Simon felt as though the Mourning Siren was singing to him.