24
The sea rolled black and cold beneath the hull, the waves slapping rhythmically against tar-dark planks.
The dromond cut through the Shivering Sea like a knife.
Leaf-green sails bellied with the wind. Ropes creaked. Oars dipped in steady rhythm.
And across the upper deck dozens of animals lay comatose in neat rows. Deer. Goats. wolves. rabbits.
If one couldn't see the rising and falling of their chests one would think them as it was they were all brain dead.
Ivar leaned on the rail, cloak flapping, chewing thoughtfully on nothing, jaw tense.
"Obsidian Leaf," he muttered. "Good name for this ship. Black as death and fast as a shadow. Of course I would have chosen better something more fierce"
He turned his head slightly.
"Now explain to me," he said, voice dry, "why the hell we are sailing northeast… into a sea no sailor with a sane skull ever seeks… while our deck looks like a butcher's yard for ghosts with all these animals?"
Erik stood beside him, hands resting calmly on the rail, watching the horizon.
"We're not going to die," Erik said lightly. "Probably."
Ivar stared at him.
"That is not what a captain likes to hear."
Erik smiled faintly.
"You'll see soon."
Ivar clicked his tongue and exhaled through his nose.
"I hate when you do that. 'You'll see.' You sound like a smug oracle."
-----
"So. Tell me, Lord of Trees…" Ivar drawled, tilting his head with that crooked, unnerving smile. "Are you finally going to explain — or must I keep guessing like an idiot until I irritate the truth out of you?"
"You already irritate the truth out of me most days," Erik said.
Ivar's grin widened — sharp, boyish, dangerous.
"Good. Then I still have my uses."
"You have value because you're an experienced captain," Erik replied. "And because you think faster than most."
Ivar's expression shifted — mock hurt.
"Ah. So not because you like me."
"I don't need to like you," Erik said calmly. "I only need to trust you enough to stand beside me."
Ivar gave a short laugh that was quiet and bitter.
"That is the most honest thing anyone has said to me in years."
There was a pause in their conversation and the only sounds were the Wind blowing and the oars splashing.
"You're afraid." Ivar stated as a matter of fact
"Merely cautious." Erik replied
"No" Ivar shook his head eyes narrowed like a predator who had scented something. "Afraid. When you stare at the horizon like that, you're not planning. You're measuring the cost. You're counting the dead."
"Everything has a cost." Erik said nodding his eyes still on the horizon
"Yes. And men like us always think we're the ones chosen to pay it." Ivar grinned
"You regret what you were?" Erik asked finally looking at Ivar
Ivar's smile twisted into something wounded and feral.
Sometimes. Sometimes I miss it." Ivar shrugged, his smile was bittersweet "Sometimes I wake wanting to burn the world just to see if anyone can stop me."
"And now? "Erik asked
"Now I wake, remember the thing you planted in me…" Ivar tapped his over his heart where the weirwood seed roots encircled his heart protecting Ivar but also protecting Erik from Ivar "…and the thought just… dissolves. Like ash in the wind"
I should hate you for that." Ivar commented offhandedly
"Do you?" Erik asked curious
Ivar didn't say anything for a while
"No" Ivar replied softly "Because without it… I would have ruined Weirstad already. And I have grown to like that place."
"You still have your will." Erik pointed out
"Oh, I know. I simply can't betray you and yours anymore. Which is irritating" Ivar smirks "And strangely peaceful."
"But that doesn't mean you won't challenge me." Erik said
"Oh, I will challenge you every chance I get" Ivar laughed "But from beside you. Not behind your back."
He studied Erik.
"Will you just Stop dancing around it andtell me what you're really doing out here?" Ivar asked "This curiosity, its not good for my fragile mental health"
"Testing limits." Erik replied cryptically enjoying the look of frustration on Ivar's face
"Of the sea?" Ivar asked
"No" Erik replied "Of myself."
"Dangerous habit." Ivar muttered
"I live by it" Erik stated "You lived by it too once"
"Yes. And look how well that turned out." Ivar said
They both allow a brief, grim smile.
"Promise me one thing." Ivar
"What?" Erik asked
"If you ever misjudge… if your power starts to eat you, like Skarkul ate my men" Ivar turned serious "let someone stop you. Don't become another monster wearing good intentions."
"And who will stop me?" Erik asked
"I can't. Your leash still won't let me." Ivar mused "I will simply have to convince others to do it"
"Fair enough" Erik replied nodding in agreement
"Good. Now go do your impossible thing. I'll make sure the ship doesn't sink while you play god."
Behind them, boots thumped.
Stigr, a thin young man who was recently discovered to be a warg bounced over, practically vibrating with excitement, grin wide enough to split his face.
"Lord Erik!" he blurted. "I knew it! I knew it! This is going to be something huge, isn't it?"
Ivar closed one eye, unimpressed. "Careful, boy. If you grin any harder, your skull will fall off."
Stigr ignored him entirely.
He gestured wildly at the animals.
"Look at them! No thought in their heads! No fear! No kicking! Only Erik can do that! This is definitely a ritual! A big one! Like he did with the Weirstad tree Maybe he'll make a sea monster! Or grow a giant tree in the ocean! Or—"
"Stigr," Erik said calmly.
"Yes, Lord Erik!" Stigr straightened like a soldier.
"Breathe."
Stigr inhaled like he had forgotten air existed.
Ivar smirked.
"He worships you," he said lazily. "Like a child staring at thunder for the first time."
Stigr puffed his chest.
"Of course, I do not! I'm a devout follower of the old gods and Erik is their champion. He grows forests. He heals the broken. He makes weapons from seeds. And now—" He pointed to the sea, almost shaking with anticipation. "Now he's going to do something even more insane!"
He leaned closer to Erik, whispering loudly, badly:
"Are you going to make the sea obey us?"
Erik kept watching the horizon.
"Something like that."
Ivar rolled his eyes.
"There it is again. 'Something like that.' You know, back when I was captain of reavers, the men feared me because I told them exactly how they might die that day. You…" He gestured. "You make them afraid by saying nothing at all."
He gave a crooked grin.
"And somehow it works."
Stigr nodded enthusiastically.
"It works because he always wins."
Erik finally turned not arrogant, not proud.
Just steady.
"I don't always win," he said quietly. "I just prepare."
Ivar's gaze drifted back to the animals.
"Preparation," he echoed. "Right. So these poor things?"
"Not poor," Erik said. "Their minds are sleeping. They feel nothing."
Stigr leaned against the rail beside him.
"But why bring them out here? Why not do your ritual in Weirstad?"
Erik watched the water turning darker ahead.
"Because some things," he said, "should not be done near home."
A shiver ran across the deck — not from cold.
Men glanced at each other.
Ivar straightened slowly, instincts prickling.
"You're going to change something," he murmured. "Not a man. Not a tree. Not a wall."
He looked at the sea.
"You're going to change this."
Erik didn't answer.
The sails snapped harder.
The Obsidian Leaf surged forward.
Stigr's grin returned brighter, wilder.
"This is going to be amazing."
Ivar muttered under his breath:
"Or the stupidest thing I have ever agreed to."
But he didn't walk away.
He stayed.
Because whatever Erik was about to do…
He wanted to see it.
By noon, there was no land in any direction.
Only endless gray water. Endless gray sky. The world had become a circle of cold nothing.
The crew shifted uneasily.
Even hardened warriors grew quiet out here.
Ivar stood at the prow of the Obsidian Leaf, cloak whipping in the wind, eyes narrowed.
"This is it?" he muttered. "Middle of nowhere. Middle of nothing."
Erik stepped forward, calm, focused — almost distant.
"Yes," he said. "We are exactly where we need to be."
Some of the men whispered brief prayers to the Old Gods.
On the deck, the rows of comatose animals breathed shallowly, unmoving, blank-eyed.
Stigr stared at them, trembling with excitement.
"This is it," he whispered. "This is really it."
Ivar's voice turned sharp.
"What are you doing, Erik?"
Erik's eyes went to the sea.
"There is something beneath us," he said quietly. "Something gigantic and deadly. Something strong enough to change everything if we can make it obey."
A murmur rippled through the crew.
Someone whispered, hoarse:
"Leviathan…"
Even saying the word seemed to chill the air.
Ivar frowned.
"You're going to warg a leviathan?" he said, incredulous. "A creature bigger than dragons? Have you lost your mind?"
"Maybe," Erik said. "Stand ready."
He stepped into the center of the deck.
He placed his hands on the nearest comatose animal.
Stigr watched with shining devotion.
"He's drawing strength," he whispered reverently. "He's sharing their life. Borrowing it."
Ivar's eyes darkened.
"Pray he knows when to stop."
Erik closed his eyes.
And reached.
Down.
Deep.
Through the freezing layers where sunlight died… deeper still, into the crushing black.
Into something vast.
Something sleeping.
Something dreaming in hunger.
He touched it.
And it woke.
A sound rose from the oceans depths was not something heard with ears alone, but felt in the bones.
A bass, thunderous tremor that rattled shields and teeth.
The water ahead bulged.
Then split.
And the leviathan broke the surface.
It was enormous.
Bigger than any whale men had ever seen or spoken of around firelight.
A mountain of wet, black flesh. Barnacles like white knuckles gripped its hide. Old scars scored its body like runes carved by time and violence. Its eye a vast, dark orb the size of a shield rolled up and fixed on the ship.
The crew froze.
One man whimpered.
Another fell to his knees.
Ivar whispered, stunned despite himself:
"By every damned god…"
The leviathan exhaled.
A geyser erupted skyward.
The air stank of deep-sea rot and ancient salt.
Erik's mind slammed against its mind.
The leviathan felt him.
It did not submit.
It raged. It was not merely sentient but also sapient like a dolphin.
The ship rocked violently.
Ropes creaked. Oars scraped. Men shouted.
"Hold fast!" someone yelled.
Erik clenched his jaw, eyes still shut, sweat already beading on his brow.
It fought him with raw, primal fury.
Not mindless but wild and unyielding.
It shoved him away like a storm tossing a leaf.
He staggered only barely staying upright.
Stigr gasped.
"Lord Erik!"
Ivar grabbed the rail.
"Break it off!" he barked. "Let it go! This isn't like wolves or ravens. This thing was born to drown worlds!"
Erik ignored him.
He reached again with all his might. Deeper. harder.
Their bodies stiffened.
Their life-energy bled outward into him like warm rivers and they withered faster.
The bond thickened.
He surged back into the leviathan's mind like a spear of light.
The leviathan roared. It turned.
And charged.
The sea exploded around its massive bulk as it surged forward, its shadow swallowing the ship.
"TURN HER!" Ivar shouted, instantly snapping into command.
"Hard starboard! Row! Row, you bastards, row!"
Oars bit the water.
The Obsidian Leaf creaked violently as it tried to pivot away.
But the leviathan was too fast.
It came like a black wall.
Like doom.
Men screamed.
One dropped his oar and ran only to be shoved back into place by another.
The shadow loomed over them.
And Erik was still standing, eyes shut, teeth clenched, gripping the sacrificial animals with both hands now.
The beasts beneath his palms shuddered then went limp.
He pushed harder.
Blood trickled from his nose.
The leviathan rose higher, mouth yawning open showing a cavern of baleen and darkness.
Ivar's voice cut through the chaos, harsh and furious:
"ERIK! NOW! OR WE ALL DIE!"
The ship rattled. Water slammed across the deck.
The world was nothing but thunder and cold and screaming wood.
Erik finally broke through.
He didn't crush the leviathan's will.
He didn't conquer it like a slave.
He wrapped around it.
Coiled through its instincts.
Twined through its hunger.
He became another current in its thoughts.
The leviathan faltered.
Its bulk slowed.
The massive head hovered meters from the prow, close enough for men to see their reflections in its wet black hide.
Silence fell.
Only the sea breathed.
Erik opened his eyes.
They glowed faintly, distant, unfocused.
Slowly…
The leviathan eased backward.
It sank, calm now, circling beneath the ship like a tamed storm.
Breaths released across the deck.
Men slumped.
One laughed hysterically.
Another wept openly.
Ivar stared at Erik equal parts awe, fury, and dread.
"You," he said slowly, voice low. "Are going to get us all killed one day."
Erik swayed but remained standing.
"No," he whispered. "I'm going to make sure that our ships have the best guard and speed booster in the world"
Below, deep in the cold black, the leviathan turned obedient now.
The sea had gone strangely calm.
As if the water itself was waiting.
Erik stood at the rail, eyes distant, still half inside the leviathan's mind.
Then he turned.
"Stigr," he said quietly. "With me."
Stigr froze, pointing at himself.
"M-Me?"
"Yes," Erik replied. "Come."
Stigr swallowed then nodded with fierce determination.
"I'm ready."
Ivar muttered darkly.
"This is how fools die."
Erik only smiled slightly and climbed down the rope ladder.
Stigr followed.
The water was shockingly cold, biting like teeth but moments later, the shadow rose beneath them.
The leviathan surfaced again, slow and deliberate.
Enormous.
Alive.
Its vast eye rolled toward Erik.
He laid a hand on its wet hide, fingers sinking slightly into barnacle-studded flesh.
His voice was soft , the way someone might speak to a wounded animal.
"You will obey," he whispered. "You will not break. You will not turn. Not while my people sail this sea."
The leviathan resisted , a faint tremor.
Erik pressed further.
Roots of will tightened.
The creature's mind bent not broken but guided.
Then he took Stigr's wrist.
"Hold on," Erik said.
Stigr blinked.
"Okay!"
Their fingers interlaced, and Erik pulled Stigr gently forward until his palm rested on the leviathan beside his.
Power moved.
Warm. Heavy. Ancient.
Stigr gasped.
He felt something move inside his skull like an entire ocean slowly opening.
"What— what is this—?"
"You," Erik said, voice firm and calm, "will be its rider. Its voice. Its anchor. You will be its warg. Do not abuse it."
Stigr's expression turned solemn and serious in a way few had ever seen.
"I won't. I swear it."
Erik closed his eyes.
He unwound his bond.
He threaded it through Stigr.
For a heartbeat, the leviathan shuddered uncertain.
Then its massive eye focused.
On Stigr.
The boy laughed breathless, stunned, joyful.
"I can feel it! It's… huge! And sleepy! And grunpy! And kind of lonely!"
"Guide it," Erik said. "Do not command it like a slave. Treat it like a friend too strong to understand its own strength."
Stigr nodded fiercely.
"Yes!"
They swam back, the leviathan circling docilely beneath.
When Erik climbed aboard, dripping and exhausted, he pointed to the rows of living, comatose animals.
"Throw them over," he said softly.
The crew hesitated.
"But—"
"The animals, theone that are still live," Erik said. " throw then one by one towards me"
One by one, the animals splashed gently into the sea and began drifting slowly, carried by soft waves
Then Erik crouched by the rail.
His hands grew busy.
Bone, tendon, resin , drawn from seed and flesh and strange bio-alchemy wove together in living strands. A massive organic harness took shape, wrapping around the leviathan without piercing skin, distributing pressure like a second hide.
Pre-existing rings that were on the ship's bow, the harness slid into hidden sockets carved there from the very beginning.
Ivar stared wide-eyed.
"You planned this from the start? Even when we wer building the ship"
Erik only shrugged.
"It was… a possibility."
Ivar laughed sharp, incredulous.
"You insane, brilliant bastard."
The harness locked.
The leviathan drifted forward, and the ship tugged gently like a toy on a river.
Erik and Stigr quickly climbed back on the ship
"Now," Erik murmured. "Reach."
Stigr closed his eyes.
His breath steadied.
Below, the leviathan stirred.
The Obsidian Leaf surged forward.
A ripple of awe moved across the crew.
"By the gods…"
"We're flying…"
"Look how fast—"
Water foamed past the hull, the ship slicing ahead faster than any wind-driven sail.
Twice its normal speed. Maybe more.
Ivar leaned at the rail, wind snapping his cloak, eyes gleaming like a child who had just seen war for the first time.
"Leviathan…" he murmured. "You know, Erik — that creature… it is the sigil of my house. House Volmark. I grew up hearing tales of it. Devourer of fleets. Destroyer of kings. Eater of krakens"
He clicked his tongue, half-laughing.
"I never imagined I'd see one. Much less hitch it to a damn ship."
Erik arched a brow.
"You object?"
Ivar smirked.
"Oh, no. I approve. Entirely. This is… magnificent."
He turned slightly serious.
"Just remember, men will fear us twice as much now. And fear is a tricky currency."
The crew settled into silent wonder.
Some knelt and prayed.
Others just stared, stunned.
Stigr stood like a captain at the prow with hair whipping, grin stretched ear-to-ear, eyes bright.
"I can feel the currents!" he shouted happily. "He likes to swim where it's deep! He's humming!"
Ivar groaned.
"Wonderful. The scary monster of my childhood stories …. hums."
Erik simply watched tired, satisfied, thoughtful.
Behind them, the sun lowered and ahead, the world shrank as the speed carried them homeward.
By dawn, the caldera cliffs would be in sight.
And the people of Weirstad would see something no one had ever seen before:
Their ship…
Dragged by a creature some considered a god of the deep.