home

search

Chapter 18 - Departure

  Early the next morning, thirty-one children heaved and groaned as they pushed the beached warship into the ocean, sunlight bearing down upon all of them

  Marisol waved wildly back at them from the quarterdeck, leaning so far past the railings that there was a very good chance she’d fall right off the ship—but there really was no telling when she’d get to see the children again, and Kuku, in particular, hollered his best wishes louder than anyone else on the iron sand beach. She laughed to herself as she spotted him jumping up and down, skittering from side to side in that silly crab dance of his. She already missed him and the crabs he was just so good at cooking to perfection.

  the Archive offered.

  A low, gargantuan rumble made the entire ship rattle, and the unnatural sound made the Archive shut up for a good few seconds. Marisol, on the other hand, kept waving and smiling at the island in general.

  She wasn’t afraid of the rumble.

  she thought.

  The little water strider on her shoulder was quiet for a moment.

  Then, it sighed, as though realizing it couldn’t keep it secret anymore.

  She frowned down at the Archive.

  the Archive said plainly.

  She breathed out a short sigh, closing her eyes briefly.

  She waved her goosebumps away as she whirled around, facing the empty wooden deck of the warship. It was a rather large ship—as it had to be to support twenty or so half-crab marauders—and that meant the children spared no effort fitting as many gifts as they could onto the deck. Barrels of clean water, crates upon crates of dried vegetables, and about the entirety of the lower decks were submerged with freshwater to support the livelihood of about fifty crabs. That meant, if she ever wanted to eat crab meat, she had to go fishing. Inside a ship. In the middle of the ocean.

  Oh, she was going to be entertained.

  she thought, sliding down the stairs and racing straight to the bowsprit at the front of the warship. She peered out at the great blue with two hands shading her eyes, trying to scan the horizon for her destination.

  the Archive noted, and she looked up and behind her at the three giant masts.

  Her eyes widened as she looked down at the Archive.

  the Archive said.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The Archive shrugged nonchalantly.

  Sitting on the bowsprit with her glaives dangling freely over the ocean, she put her face in her hands and breathed out a long, heavy sigh.

  she muttered.

  The Archive shrugged again.

  The next morning, while Marisol was stretching on the crow’s nest twenty meters above the deck, she spotted the silhouette of what looked like a city built atop a mountain in the far distance.

  Squinting, she noticed the sky around the city was markedly different from the rest of the great blue. It was all grey storm clouds and death, lightning flashing, winds howling and churning; she shuddered just looking at it from afar. There was no doubt about it. The warship was not going to make it all the way there, and judging by the billow of dark, heavy rain clouds drifting straight towards her, she wouldn’t be seeing sunlight and blue skies for a long, long while.

  she thought, biting her lips.

  They sailed faster than the Archive expected, and by midnight of the second day, Marisol was already tucked into the captain’s cabin at the back of the ship.

  The warship was an old thing, all creaking wood and frayed ropes. Heavy rain pelted the deck outside in relentless sheets; the hammering echoed through the entire hull. Marisol unfurled a cozy mat by the porthole and made that little corner of the cabin her home. As she peered through the glass, she thought it rather strange the waves outside were slow and eerily calm. Sure, there was a swirl of grey mist and dark shadows that prevented her from seeing anything a hundred meters away from the ship, but she’d have thought the waves would be a bit… choppier?

  As they were, the ship wasn’t really getting rocked around. She wasn’t feeling seasick at all. Every so often, a particularly strong gust would rattle the porthole and make her flinch, but that was about the extent of how violent the rain was. It couldn’t be called a storm, no—it was more like she was just sailing through calm rain and a thick fog.

  she thought, peering hard with a candle held up to the porthole; it was the only source of light she had on the ship.

  On the fifth day, Marisol had to venture out of the captain’s cabin to roll in one of the freshwater barrels, and she glanced up at the silhouette of the city through the rain and fog as she did.

  On the twelfth day, one of the ropes fastening a corner of a giant sail ripped, and Marisol did a mad sprint outside in the rain to replace it.

  As she did, she took another glance at the silhouette of the city, brows furrowing.

  On the twentieth night, Marisol kicked open the door to the captain’s cabin and skated out onto the flooded deck, slamming into the railings at the front of the ship

  The silhouette of the Whirlpool City wasn’t any closer than when they’d first sailed under the rain clouds on the second day.

  the Archive muttered.

  the Archive said calmly before hopping off her shoulder, pointing a leg down and over the railings.

  She peered over the railings and down at the great blue. Despite the pouring raindrops breaking the surface in heavy pitter-patters, the midnight sea was still and calm as a mirror’s surface. There were pillars of moonlight falling through small gaps in the clouds, and she felt she could even see her own reflection in the waves below; that was how eerily calm the sea was.

  Begrudgingly, she vaulted over the railings and dropped ten meters down, landing on the surface with a gently spreading ripple. At the Archive’s behest, she first skated a full circle around the ship to check for any obvious damages to the hull, but found nothing of note. Then, she concentrated on the tiny hydropines across her palms and knees as she got down on all fours, essentially stopping herself from sinking while she dunked only her head below the surface. There wasn’t a reef or anything of the sort the ship was stuck on, either.

  But there a few strange things anchored to the bottom of the ship. She had to yank her head out of the water, take a deep breath, before plunging back in to take a better look.

  They were…

  the Archive mumbled, as she stared straight at the giant, jagged black shells blowing constant streams of bubbles in the opposite direction of the ship’s trajectory. They were growing all over the keel, and Marisol, for one, had no idea how they even got there.

  She shuddered from head to toe as the sea rumbled, and a giant shadow slithered deep below the ship.

  She even saw it, but it looked like it had a hundred pairs of legs as its shadow neared the surface. The Archive probably got a good look at it through her eyes, but she was having none of it. She yanked her head out, pranced back towards the ship, and practically hopped all the way up by stabbing her glaives into the hull. Within fifteen seconds she was back on the flooded deck, nails digging into the railings as she peered dangerously forward.

  If she had any doubts about what she saw, the monster neared the surface, its large body rippling and searching the area she just now vacated.

  She pulled her head back sharply from the railing, and the giant, five-hundred-meter long shadow circled the ship like a flock of vultures.

  [Objective #7: Man the warship alone and sail towards the Whirlpool City]

  [Objective #7: Evacuate from the warship and survive the giant remipede]

  [Time Limit: 10 minutes]

  [Reward: Temporary survival]

  [Failure: Death]

  In ancient Europe, there was a myth known as the ‘Barnacle goose myth’, in which people back then believed all geese were born from goose barnacles because they kinda look like baby geese heads if you’re staring at them from afar. Back then, since geese were also rarely sighted nesting locally, it was believed they were spontaneously born from goose barnacles attached to drifting wood. Look up ‘goose barnacle’ and see for yourself. Do you think they look like baby geese heads?

  Man, people back then were really bored.

Recommended Popular Novels