Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (top 5 books to read TXT) 📗

tail. His primal mind urged him to shift into his shark body, offering the crazed she-squid his shark teeth, at least, if he was to meet a similar end as Ishmael seemed destined to receive.

For all the lingering hate in Kellen’s gaze, all the glee Garrett witnessed in both of the she-squids also, it was the eldest of the Sancul to temper them all with a quiet word.

No, said Kanaloa, his tentacles latching into unseen places in the darkness and the rocky under to maneuver him closer to Kellen and Ishmael. No, favored one, he quietly commanded, using his own tentacles to pry at Kellen’s grip upon Ishmael. There will be no lessons this day in killing. Aye, especially not between allies . . .

Garrett’s brow wrinkled in the same curious question he saw spreading across Kellen’s face as well. Allies?

When Kellen refused to release Ishmael, the elder Sancul chuckled – a deep, unsettling mockery that needled deep within Garrett for each passing second.

Kanaloa’s tentacles twined around the grip Kellen held upon Ishmael’s throat, then gently worked against them to release his prize. Peace, favored one. The other Salt Child says this one you mean to slay was given a vision of our arrival. Kanaloa succeeded in freeing Ishmael to breathe of the Salt once more. How are we to learn of what else were seen and foretold if you sacrifice him now?

Kellen sneered at the captive stolen from him when Ishmael instantly swam back to rejoin the other Nomads. It doesn’t matter what Ishmael says, he told Kanaloa. It’ll be nothing but lies. He’ll do anything to save his own skin.

Garrett snorted at the argument. Sounds like someone else I know. He reconsidered the position the longer he looked on Kellen. While there was little to separate Kellen’s face from the one Garrett remembered since their youth, a haunted stillness had overtaken his classmates’ eyes, even when Kellen raged. The longer Garrett stared at him, the more he felt the weight upon his own chest lessened. What happened to you down here, Kellen? Garrett wondered again, both horrified and drawn to the strangulating grip Kellen held Ishmael captive with. Have you seen things like I have? Garrett swallowed the lump in his throat. Done the awful things like I did to survive?

For all of Garrett’s ponderings, however, Kellen took no notice of him. His tentacles moved like fingers tapping a desk, impatient in their want for Ishmael as their former prize swam away. Yet so long as the elder Sancul remained at his side, Kellen’s tentacles kept to their steady movement, each appearing like thick, coiled cobras awaiting to strike at a moment’s notice.

Kanaloa turned back to the council and Ishmael hidden among them. Speak on, Salt Child, he said. What dreams were you given of my people? What fool bravery led you to dive into the borders of our domain and to bring your fellows to the brink of dark and deep?

Ishmael rubbed at the red-chafed circle around his neck, his veins pulsing as he glared across the distance at Kellen in mixed question and vengeance.

Speak, Salt Child! Kanaloa thundered, his squid body drifting forth in front of Kellen to halt the stare-down between he and Ishmael. Or I shall give you back unto my favored one to do with as he wishes. Aye, leave you for him to toy with in the deepest places that even the bravest of your folk have never ventured.

Garrett swore there was a flicker of unsettled fear in Ishmael’s eyes then, a look he gathered the famed Nomad warrior was unaccustomed to.

Ishmael cocked his head to the side as he spoke of his dream. Far beneath me, I saw a pale lantern of greenish, glowing light that gleamed against the elsewise dark and deep, he began. It was my father’s ghost to bear the lantern, and he bidding me to swim down and join him in the Abyss.

Kellen sneered. He brought you to die, Red Water.

Kanaloa raised a hand to quiet him. Peace, favored one, he said quietly before looking to Ishmael again. Let you continue, Salt Child.

Ishmael did. My father’s face was broken, his body wounded as the last I had seen of him before his end. For all the wounds he bore, all that he suffered, my father could no longer speak. Still, I understood him all the same when he bid me to follow him into the darkened depths. On and on I swam after him, yet always he outraced me in his need to dive, the light of his lantern all that bid me to continue on. And when he entered the Abyss, his lantern was soon put out, pitching me in darkness eternal. Still, I searched for him, calling his name that I might rejoin him for good and all. Ishmael hesitated, his face paling as he glanced around at the other Sancul. And then . . . then, a voice in the darkness whispered unto me.

Garrett shuddered at the prevalent worry in Ishmael’s tone. His every word came like that of a frightened child waking from a nightmare, only to discover it a worser one than the other he fled from.

When Kanaloa looked to the motherly she-squid, Garrett swore the pair of them shared a silent conversation for the length with which it lasted. And when Kanaloa turned back to Ishmael, there was more than a little concern upon his face as well. What did the voice speak unto you, child?

That nothing were hidden from its sight, said Ishmael. Nothing above. Nothing below. Aye, and that it knew the deepest, secret wants in my heart also.

And what hidden secret wants be they? Kanaloa asked.

Ishmael did not hesitate in answer. To see my father’s vision for our people realized, he replied. For them to hold sway over the Salted plains and valleys once more as in the days of old. And to never be troubled by the Drybacks or Merrows, Orcs or otherwise, ever again.

The Drybacks too?