Adrian Tchaikovsky - The Sea Watch

Arkeuthys.

The sea-monster that had dragged him down into this nightmare world the first time. All across the surface of Hermatyre, the smaller octopuses were now squirming into the water, fanning out across the defenders, coming to rest on the seabed or simply undulating back and forth. Arkeuthys just hung there before the attackers, though, like a vast tentacled skull, as the attackers’ advance began to slow to a crawl. The reputation alone, the very name of the great monster, seeped into each mind like a curse.

Aboard Nemoctes’s companion, Aradocles lifted his head.

‘It’s the big beast, Arkeuthys,’ Nemoctes suppied, watching through the eyes of the creature that carried them. The Pelagist was fully geared for war, shell armour and shield and hook-headed axe.

‘Oh, I know that,’ said the heir of Hermatyre softly. It had been a long time since he had used the Art of Speech, years indeed since he had been close enough to one of Arkeuthys’s brood. Now he felt the mind of the creature just like a sun, burning away in the water with the malevolent fire of its long years. The octopuses, the Krakind’s namesake beasts, were more than mere animals. They were guardians and patrons to the humans who claimed kinship with them, and in return the beasts lived longer and longer, lifespans stretching from the brief span allotted to their lesser cousins until they could count their years as men did, or longer. As they aged, they grew wiser, too, more cunning in the ways of the world, and of humanity. They had always been a force here, in Hermatyre, a silent but influential counsel in the affairs of the Edmirs.

Arkeuthys, sent out Aradocles, into the watery void. Hear me.

He was not sure that he had properly recaptured the Art of it, until that slow voice came back, sounding like stone grating on stone. So, you have returned after all.

Did you ever doubt it?

It would not be the first time, Arkeuthys replied, that rumours of you have stirred up fools. I have personally defended your honour by putting down such lies. Has the idiot Heiracles not told you of his previous attempts at unseating your rightful blood? Or would he perhaps clothe himself in virtue now, as though it could be accreated, like metal or shell?

I have no illusions about Heiracles, Aradocles replied. The presence of Arkeuthys in his mind was vast and heavy, and it made his knees want to buckle, his bowels to loosen. But he stood all the straighter, under the force of that vast scrutiny. Heiracles knows his place, now.

And do you? There was bleak amusement in the great monster’s thoughts. Your rabble cringes from me even now. What did you expect, Aradocles?

From them? That they would follow me this far – and further, as they must. Aradocles took a deep breath, sensing the abyss beneath him that he must plumb. And from you? Obedience, as due to your rightful Edmir.

There was a very long pause indeed, and the eventual response was not words at all, but a feeling that indicated amusement – only amusement.

Hear me, Arkeuthys, Aradocles persisted. You served my father well, and you are a great ruler of your own people. After I was lost to Hermatyre, when I was believed dead, you then served my uncle. Why should you not? He was thought by all to be the rightful Edmir of Hermatyre, so it was not your place to question him. Now you know the truth of my return, why should you not serve your rightful lord, and turn from the false one?

He sensed the quality of the silence change at the far end of his link with Arkeuthys. At last the great beast murmured, Claeon has valued my support, and given me much freedom. He has made me a very Edmir of my people, as he is Edmir of yours.

As he was, corrected Aradocles sharply. Arkeuthys, you are your people’s ruler. It has never been the place of the Kerebroi to interfere in such matters. Do you think I would try to unseat you because you have served others in my family? Only continue to serve my family still, and why should I bear you any grudge?

And the baffled reply followed fast on the heels of his words. But your people will remember only too well what I have done in Claeon’s name, little one.

They will remember that it was done in Claeon’s name, that is all. And if they should ever complain, well, if they would have me as their Edmir, then they will live by my decision.

The attacking force’s advance had stopped entirely now. All eyes, on both sides, were fixed on the giant octopus, as it undulated slightly between both lines, its eyes narrowed to the merest of slits.

Claeon would not make such a generous offer, nor would your father, if they found themselves in your place. You must be aware of the reality of what I have done, of the weapon I have made myself in Claeon’s hands against those who resisted his rule.

I have spent time amongst strange people, Aradocles replied simply. I have learned new arts. Their word for this is amnesty, and that is what I offer. Do you see its meaning, here in my mind?

I do…

Then speak to the Krakind Kerebroi gathered amongst the defenders. Tell them one thing only. Tell them I have returned, the true heir, to claim my throne. Do this, and you shall remain to me as much as you ever were to Claeon – and with one advantage more.

And what is that? pried the thoughts of Arkeuthys.

Why, that I am not Claeon, Aradocles told the creature drily. Surely you cannot claim that you actually liked my uncle?

Arkeuthys began abruptly jetting backwards in the water, as Nemoctes reported, coiling and pulsing until he hung over the defenders. In Aradocles’s mind, though, echoed the faint suggestion of laughter.

It was only when Aradocles’s troops entered Hermatyre that Stenwold realized just how messy things could have become. The city possessed dozens of the double-doored hatches, but each outer one could have been held with ease by just a few spearmen, and then again at the inner door. There were no defenders in evidence, though. Stenwold himself had watched as Arkeuthys had drifted over Claeon’s marshalled forces, expecting a sudden charge, the first blood of the war. There had been a change plain to see in the enemy army, though, a ripple of shock passing through them. As the attackers had drawn closer Stenwold had witnessed a great deal of the sea-kinden’s busy underwater hand-speech as Krakind Kerebroi – the kin of Aradocles and Claeon – passed on news to their allies of other kinden.

And the defending force had soon begun to break up. Individuals had sidled off, and then whole troops of them, the majority of the defenders simply giving up and going home. Some even left their weapons behind: spears driven point-first into the seabed or the falx swords abandoned. The octopuses – all of Arkeuthys’s crawling, lurking kindred – had simply slithered away across the great gnarled dome of the colony, leaving the way clear.

Some of the defenders had not disbanded, though. A number had come to join the attackers, gladly switching sides for no reason that Stenwold could understand just then. Others, however, had remained under arms, and they hurried back into Hermatyre, desperate to get inside its coral walls before the heir’s forces reached them. There were not enough that they could have held the city, however, even if they could have been sure of support from the rest of the populace.

Aradocles’s forces began the slow process of filing into the colony, streaming in through every entrance and forming up in their separate detachments, braced for Claeon’s counterattack. For Stenwold, this was the longest part of the assault, watching the foot-soldiers of the assault force queue and mill until their own turn came. Hermatyre had not been built with such a grand number of visitors in mind.

‘I suppose, if we’d needed, we could have used the Gastroi to cut our way in,’ he suggested. The looks he received from the others revealed nothing but horror.