Hope and Red by Jon Skovron Page B

in deep waters and in a little boat like that, like as not the oarfish will get you.”
    “Oarfish?”
    “Great big sea serpents,” called the man with the long mustache. “They swim vertical beneath the surface, gazing up at the dark shadows above them until they see or smell something that looks like prey. And, as everyone knows, sea serpents of all kinds are drawn to the scent of womenfolk. They’re probably tracking you as we speak.” He turned to the rest of the crew. “We shouldn’t have even stopped. Now she’s put us all in danger.”
    “You best shut your mouth, Ranking,” said Captain Carmichael calmly.
    “Or what?” retorted Ranking. “You’ve already doomed us with this showy bit of sentimentality.” He eyed the surface of the water warily. “I tell you, they could be on us at any time.” Then he turned back to the other sailors. “And don’t think we’re safe up here! Oarfish can—”
    Hope’s small sailboat vibrated beneath her feet, and the water surrounding her began to bubble, then boil. She vaulted into the air and landed on the larger ship’s rail, balancing on the balls of her feet. A moment later, the smaller boat smashed to pieces as a mouth with teeth as long as her forearm shot up from beneath it. The oarfish rose ten feet into the air with no sign of where it ended. Its snakelike body was as thick around as a man’s chest and a dark mottled green. It curved its head around and fixed her with its black glassy eyes, then dropped back below the surface.
    The sailors ran to the cabins and the rigging, shouts, curses, and prayers filling the air.
    “He ain’t done yet,” Captain Carmichael said as he looked up at Hope, who was still balanced on the rail. “You might want to get down from there.”
    She smiled slightly as she looked down at him from her perch. “You might want to clear to one side.”
    The oarfish burst from the water again, this time angled so that it came directly at Hope. At the last instant, she darted to one side and the oarfish blew past her. The Song of Sorrows slid from its sheath, sunlight glinting on the blade as it hummed through the air and came down just past the gills, slicing cleanly through. The head continued on its trajectory, the gaping maw still open, until it slammed into the main mast, the teeth embedding into the wood. The headless body slammed onto the deck, spraying blood and seawater as it slid to the starboard rail before coming to a halt. Only then did Bleak Hope jump from the port rail to land soundlessly beside the captain.
    “You see?” shouted Ranking. “She brought in an oarfish as sure as anything. I was right!”
    “Whether she brought it in or not,” said Carmichael, “she sure as piss took it out.” He turned to her. “Are you retained?”
    “Retained?” she asked.
    “Do you swear loyalty to anyone? Does someone pay you?”
    She shook her head.
    “You aren’t thinking of bringing her on board, Captain?” said Ranking. “A woman? That’s the worst kind of luck!”
    Carmichael looked from Ranking to Hope, then to the headless oarfish. Finally, he addressed the whole crew. “Man, woman. Don’t see how that makes a whole lot of difference. What I do see is a warrior , the like of which you don’t come across too often in your life.” He turned back to Hope. “How about it? Care to join my crew for a spell?”
    Hope considered it. The captain had stopped to offer her assistance. He had called her a warrior. He seemed to be a somewhat honorable man. “Do you travel a great deal? All over the empire?”
    “We do.”
    She looked around at the ship. It was true she didn’t know much about the world. But she couldn’t think of a better place to learn.
    “Very well, Captain,” she said. “You have my sword for a time. Until I feel I must move on.”
    “Fair enough,” he said. “Doubt I could keep you from going anyway.”
    “Captain, no—” Ranking stepped toward them, but he jerked to a halt when Hope