SALT AWAY
Salted Series: Book 4
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Marisa Bourgeois warned Kellen that the Salt tides are ever moving, ever changing, their melody dark and deep. There is no escape for the poor souls drowning in their wake, and he is one of those unfortunates caught in its deadly sway. Kellen doesn’t believe in ridiculous prophecies though. A Selkie slave, forced to fight for his life and the enjoyment of others, he has faith in himself and his ability to overcome any obstacle. He’ll do anything to regain his freedom, murder included. What Kellen doesn’t know is some prophecies are real. That an ancient and nameless voice, long Salting away in secret, might indeed be singing of his fate...and it doesn’t care what Kellen believes. Buy Now On
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Excerpt Chapter
**SPOILER ALERT**
The following excerpt contains spoilers for those who haven't read books 1 -3 of the Salted series
The following excerpt contains spoilers for those who haven't read books 1 -3 of the Salted series
KELLEN
Kellen dropped his kill to the bloodied sands and roared to the crowd.
“Move!” Henry called to him. “Move!”
Kellen whipped around, yanking Tieran along with him. A sharp pain grazed the side of his neck as a spear’s edge whizzed past.
The spear thunked beside him in the sand, its tip buried deep, the other end vibrating.
Kellen growled at the spear-thrower – a girl around his age, the lone remaining survivor in her group. You should have kept hiding. He slithered toward her, his adrenaline surging when she backpedaled in retreat. Kellen hissed to keep her from realizing Henry and Marrero had taken the opposite bank, blocking her escape.
The girl drew a knife from her boot.
A horn sounded.
Kellen stopped at once, feeling his chain slacken as Tieran obeyed the call as well. So too did he see Marrero stand down. Still, Henry’s mace continued whirring.
The girl rose from the sand, her dagger raised. “Do it,” she yelled at Kellen. “Come for me!”
Again the horn sounded.
I don’t have to, Kellen thought, seeing Henry stalking up on the girl.
“Kill me!” She flung sand at Kellen. “Just kill—”
The fire in her eyes vanished as Henry’s mace connected with her skull. The blow sent her reeling, painting the air and sand alike red.
The crowd roared approval.
Kellen searched their faces, not finding his master anywhere among the audience. He glanced away from their joy and looked instead on the girl’s body.
You almost had me, he thought, watching her convulse in death’s throes. Almost.
The horn sounded a third time and several owners spilled into the pit, the gatekeeper Roland in tow. The mixed group of owners swam toward the island, their tails morphing to human legs as they rose from the water and stepped upon the beach.
One of the Merrow owners pointed at Henry. “Roland! I want that one dead. Now!”
Henry turned his back to the owner and knelt at the shoreline, cupping his hands in the water and splashing his bloodied face clean.
“What is this disrespect?” the owner shouted at Roland. “We sounded them to stop! And now my fighter is dead for it. Where is his master? I demand repayment for my losses.”
“My friend,” said Roland. “These things happen…”
“Not in any respectable arena.” The owner shrugged away from Roland and stalked toward Henry.
Stand up, Henry, Kellen thought.
“Are you deaf, slave? Did you not hear the conch shell warning?” The owner stopped behind Henry. “Stand and face me. Now!”
Henry did not, continuing to clean his body of sand and blood.
“I said get up!” The owner kicked Henry in the back, sending him into the water.
Ishmael’s immediate command echoed in Kellen’s mind. Make him pay, pup…
Kellen sprang forward, red swirling in his mind. He dove at the owner’s chest, the force carrying both of them into the water and dragging Tieran along with them. The owner’s hands clawed for him, finding no purchase.
“Get off him!” Tieran pulled Kellen back, his chain tugging at the end of his collar.
No…
When the owner’s leg changed to a dolphin tail, Kellen kicked hard with his hind flippers, lashing out again toward his opponent. He bit deep into the owner’s shoulder and tucked his head, allowing his wake to carry him past, spinning both of them.
Now let him go, Ishmael’s voice commanded. Release him.
Kellen relented, leaving the owner to bleed. The tug of his chain called him toward the shore, where he exited the water to further applause.
Ishmael had joined them in the pit, standing next to Roland, and he made a show of frowning as his fighters traipsed onto land.
Lies. Kellen knew Ishmael’s expression. He couldn’t be more thrilled with us.
The wounded owner was rising from the water. “I want both those Lepers’ heads!”
“And yet you’ll have neither,” Ishmael replied. He patted his thigh and waved Kellen to approach, stroking his seal head the moment Kellen joined him.
“I will!” the owner snarled. “I don’t know who you think you are, but my friends and—”
“I know exactly who I am,” said Ishmael. “As do my fighters. Tell me, do you know yourself so well?”
He’s never stood in the pit and faced his death, Kellen thought, when the owner blushed as he waded back to shore, holding his wounded shoulder. Not like me. He glanced to his companions. Not like us.
Ishmael answered his own question. “No, I don’t believe you do. Roland, what do you think?”
“Warned them against coming in here,” said Roland. “Told them it could wait—”
“We’ll deal with you accordingly, Roland,” said the largest of the owners’ group. “The bout was scheduled for our fighters alone. The bets already cast and decision made on who would win. Your continued granting of concessions for this lot has cost us—”
Ishmael cleared his throat and knelt in the sand. “Have any of you ever set foot in the pits before today?”
“We run these pits! And if your fighters want to compete, you’ll have to go through us.”
“Through you?” Ishmael asked. “Truly?”
“Aye.”
“Very well.” Ishmael snatched up a spear and skewered the largest owner.
Kellen tensed as Ishmael engaged the others. Kicking the first away, Ishmael grabbed two more owners by their throats and lifted them off their feet. He knocked their heads together and allowed their limp bodies to drop.
The crowd groaned.
“No! Please—”
Now you know. Kellen watched as Ishmael plucked the spear from his first kill and approached the skewered owner. Stomping on the owner’s chest to keep him in place, Ishmael spun the spear in his hand and drove the tip down, staking his opponent through the neck.
We’re Salted...hardened, Kellen thought as he listened to the skewered owner’s last garbled breath. You’re not.
“Now,” said Ishmael, turning to the water. “Where is my Merrow friend?”
The wounded Merrow had gone, vanished beneath the water.
“Shame that you must come up for air sometime,” Ishmael said as he approached the water’s edge. “The weakness of your kind. Now, where are you…?”
The crowd turned silent as all waited with bated breath for the Merrow to make itself known. Its silvery back broke the surface moments later, its blowhole exhaling giving its presence away.
And now you die too. Kellen stood by as Ishmael dove into the water. He searched the spot his master had entered, waiting for him to emerge again.
Ishmael did not, nor did the Merrow.
“There!” Someone in the crowd pointed toward a thrashing in the water. “Look!”
Red Water…
Kellen backed farther up the shore, retreating from the ever-expanding pool of crimson. That’s how he earned the name.
The thrashing relented, but the crimson hue would not give sway back to the blue. Kellen stared on, conflicted as to whether he should fear such brutality or emulate it in future fights to gain the hushed reaction from the crowd.
The chain around his neck pulled at him. The growl in Kellen’s throat died when he saw not Tieran yanking at him, but Roland.
“Come along, all of you,” said Roland. “Back to your cages. I doubt you’ll want to be around when he comes out of there. Once he tastes blood…”
Kellen tore himself away from the scene and galloped to the ramped pit exit with Tieran in tow. At the crowd’s applause, Kellen glanced back and saw Ishmael’s triangular dorsal fin breaching the surface, circling the island in shark form.
“Hurry now.” Roland freed Marrero first. “Into the tunnels, all of you. At least until I can talk sense into him.”
Kellen opened his mouth for equal treatment when Roland came for him next. The familiar changes from seal to human took hold of him and Kellen stood, barefooted, a moment later.
“Roland—”
Tieran knocked Kellen over, hands wrapped around his throat. “Think you can drag me all over, eh? Think ol’ Tieran’ll stand for that, do you?”
Kellen latched onto Tieran’s wrists, trying to break his grip. He glared into the madman’s eyes.
“Tieran,” Roland yelled, his voice echoing. “Let him go!”
“Nah,” said Tieran. “I’ll not stand down to some mangy slave pup. When ol’ Tieran gives an order, boy, you—”
Kellen rocked back and whipped his left leg up. Catching his heel against Tieran’s nose, Kellen wrenched Tieran backward and off of him. The grip around his throat broken, Kellen sucked air while keeping Tieran locked between his legs and raining fists on Tieran’s face.
Roland pulled him away. “Enough! I didn’t save you from your master’s wrath so you could kill each other now!”
Still gasping for air, Kellen lifted his hands in acknowledgment that he would fight no further.
Tieran groaned from the floor, his face a bloodied pulp.
“Oi!” Roland called to a Selkie wearing an Elephant Seal suit. “Take these three back to their cage and lock them in.” He pointed at Tieran. “Then put this one in a different cell. Ishmael finds out I put them all together and one of them winds up dead, it’ll be my hide he takes next.”
Serves you right. Kellen thought of Tieran as the guard led he, Marrero, and Henry back to the slave quarters. The other fighters banged their fists against the bars, welcoming them home.
Kellen did not acknowledge any of them.
All three companions entered their cage without a fuss. As had become their custom, each distanced themselves from the others by taking separate corners when the lock clicked home.
Calm down. Kellen sat on his heels, his back pressed against the wall. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Calm down before Ishmael gets here.
He did not wait long before Ishmael thundered up the row, stopping at their cage door. “What in a blue hole was that about? You’re partners out there, remember?”
Marrero stood. “Sir, I—”
“Sit down!” Ishmael smacked the bars. “You’re the runt of this group, you know that?”
Marrero bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”
“And you…” Ishmael pointed at Henry. “You nearly got him killed twice! Twice!”
Henry met his master’s stare, but said nothing in his defense.
Ishmael snorted. “You’re not to use the pup as bait again, Henry. If he dies, I can’t enter you four in further melees. Understand?”
Henry blinked in reply.
Ishmael reached through the bars and yanked Henry against the bars.
“O-oui, monsieur,” Henry coughed.
Ishmael released him, his gaze finding Kellen. “Tell me, pup, do you like the pleasures I’ve offered you – the food, the wine, the women? Or do you think such comforts have made you lose focus?”
Kellen glanced at the floor. “I haven’t lost focus, sir.”
“No?” Ishmael asked. “Tell me, then, what were you thinking when that she-devil flung a spear that almost made a home in your throat?”
Kellen licked his lips as his mind searched for a satisfying answer.
“Well?”
Boldness. Kellen glanced up. “I thought she’d make a better whore than a pit fighter, sir.”
Ishmael’s anger broke. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” he said. “Yes, I suppose her owner shared that same thought, though it came to him too late. I’d guess that’s why he bade Roland sound the conch shell to stop the fight. What happened there, Henry? Why didn’t you stop?”
“I am a pit fighter, sir,” said Henry. “I keel anyone placed before me.”
“Live or die, then?” Ishmael asked.
“Oui, monsieur.”
“Good,” said Ishmael. “Because the luck you’ve had thus far won’t hold in the New Pearlaya bouts. Now, learn to fight as a unit already, else I decide none of you are worth my trouble.”
Kellen watched him stalk away, leaving the three of them to brood.
“He’s right, Henry,” said Marrero. “Quit trying to give me up so that—”
“Oui, ’e is,” said Henry. “You are a runt.”
“Hey!” Kellen stepped between them to halt Marrero from rushing Henry.
“You believe ’e cares about you?” Henry asked them both. “No. Only enough to line ’is pockets.”
Marrero shoved off of Kellen. “It doesn’t matter to me whether he cares or not. Just as long as we stay alive long enough—”
“Until what?” Henry asked. “Hmm? What promises ’as ’e made to you? Fight for ’im long enough, win long enough, and ’e weel give you freedom, eh?”
Marrero glanced at Kellen. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Lies,” said Henry. “We weel never go free in ’is charge no matter ’ow much we win.”
“You don’t know that,” said Marrero.
“I do,” said Henry. “I ’ave been both slave and owner in my life. ’E offers you women for bedding, food, and drink for your bellies, and all while you take, never asking why – all to keep you from planning escape.” Henry nodded at Kellen. “Already you forget what you first proposed to me.”
“I haven’t forgot,” said Kellen. “It’s just you’re not exactly the most talkative guy, Henry.”
“For good reason,” said Henry. “I do not trust ’im.”
“Ishmael?”
Henry frowned and lifted his chin in Marrero’s direction. “’Im.”
“Me?” Marrero asked. “You…you don’t trust me? Why—”
“You are weak,” Henry said.
“He’s not,” said Kellen. “I’ve known Marrero all my life. He’d never talk. Never give us up.”
“Are you so sure?” Henry asked. “’E could mean your death.”
“He doesn’t have to worry about me.” Marrero stepped around Kellen and paced toward Henry. “It’s you I hate, Henry. You killed my friends. And whatever you say, I know you’ve been trying to kill me in the pits these last few fights.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed.
“But if you got a way out of here,” Marrero continued. “If you know how to get us home…you can trust me to do anything.”
Kellen stepped between them. “Do you know of a way out, Henry? We’re all ears.”
“I weel find one,” said Henry. “But not from in ’ere. I need to see…to learn more of our surroundings. People. Guards.”
“So what are you saying?” Kellen asked. “You want us to be your eyes and ears or something when Ishmael lets us out at night?”
“No,” said Henry. “Convince ’im to release me too.”
“Schyeah, right,” said Marrero. “If I don’t trust you, why do you think Ishmael would? Besides, he’s not going to listen to a couple of slaves.”
“To you, no,” Henry said to Marrero. Then he looked at Kellen. “But to ’im…”
“Why would he care what I think?” Kellen asked.
“Ishmael favors you,” said Henry. “You would be blind not to see.”
“Then I guess I’m blind,” said Kellen.
Henry shrugged. “Talk to ’im, and we weel know.” He settled into his corner, threading his arms through the empty bar spaces and resting on his elbows. “Or else get comfortable in ’ere, for you weel find no escape unless I ’elp you.”
Marrero tugged on Kellen’s arm, motioning him to follow to the opposite corner.
Kellen obliged him, both teens seating themselves in such a way to keep Henry in their sights.
“I don’t trust him, man,” Marrero whispered. “I don’t know what he’s playing at either, wanting you to talk to Ishmael. Why’s he think you’re favored anyway?”
I’m better than you, that’s why.
Kellen shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Yeah, well, whatever,” said Marrero. “I think he’s jealous Ishmael trusts us enough to let us out at night.”
“Maybe,” said Kellen. “Kinda makes me wonder why let us and Tieran out though, and not Henry.”
“I wouldn’t let him out either. He’s always planning something. Probably knife me in the back the second he was free.” Marrero glanced in Henry’s direction. “No, I don’t trust him. We’re better off figuring out a plan of our own.”
Are we? Kellen kept his stare on Henry.
“What?” Marrero asked. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Okay…”
And you’re not going to like it.
Kellen shifted. “We need him.”
Marrero snorted.
“Say we do make a run for it one night,” said Kellen. “Where do we go? Like Tieran said, it’s not like we can go out the same we came in. Can’t exactly climb the inside of that silo.”
“You don’t know that. There might be a ladder somewhere in the dark. It’s not like we had time to swim all around and check.”
“And we’re gonna have time if we make it back there?” Kellen asked. “You wanna take that chance? Risk making it all the way there only to find out we’re trapped…then what?”
“Fine.” Marrero rubbed his temples. “So how do we get out of here, then? This place is freaking huge.”
“Going back the same way won’t work,” said Kellen. “Can’t exactly fly up the silo and out of here. No, we need to know before we make a run for it. All that time we waste looking for an exit is just time for them to find out we’ve gone missing and sound an alarm.”
“Yeah, fine.” Marrero scooted closer, whispering: “But what’s Henry got to do with that? It’s not like he knows this place any better.”
“Maybe not, but he might recognize things that we don’t.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno,” said Kellen. “That’s the point, idiot! We don’t know—”
“Oh, and Henry might,” Marrero mocked him. “Nah, man. I don’t like it. Here’s what I think – Ishmael keeps talking about us training down here in these fights, then he plans on taking us to the capital, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So then it’s the five of us, out in the open water again,” said Marrero. “Listen, we’ve had a lot of time to get comfortable in these seal bodies, fighting and whatnot. We get out in the open again and with no one around…” Marrero made a fist and tapped it against the opposite palm. “That’s when we hit him.”
“And you say I’m crazy,” said Kellen. “Did you not see what he did to those guys today?”
“He cheated,” said Marrero. “They didn’t know he was coming for them. Just like he won’t know when we’re coming for him. We pick the place and time! Guerilla style, man.”
Idiot. Kellen rested his head against the bars. “You’re going to end up as a pool of red water, dude. Shark food.”
“Maybe,” said Marrero. “But at least I’ll die fighting him.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t plan on dying,” said Kellen. I’m Salted. Hardened.
They sat in silence and took shifts leaning on each other to doze. Each time Kellen nodded off, the twisted faces of those he had slain in the pit fights haunted his dreams. Men and boys trapped beneath dead seals, knowing death came for them, helpless to prevent it, their screams filling his ears. Kellen killed them again and again, trying to shut out the voices, adding his own cries to their own. On and on he fought the nightmares, until only he remained to stand in the bloodied sands.
I’m dreaming, he told himself, trying to conquer the lingering doubt for good and all. I’m not really here. But each time he attempted to wake, he found himself still in the sand, surrounded by the dead. I’m Salted. I’ll make it back…I’ll fight for air…
Noooo… a whispered voice uttered from the depths of the black water, ringing the island. You won’t.
“Wh-who said that?” Kellen raised himself to confront whoever was coming for him next. “Show yourself!”
He regretted it the moment he saw the girl, the same one who had begged him to kill her, her death wound fresh from the dent Henry’s mace had made in her skull. Still she came on, her skin pale and purple as she waded out of the water and onto the shore, her hollow gaze fixed on him. And when she spoke, it was not with her voice, but that of a deep, craggy hag.
“You will never escape, Kellen Winstel…” said the dead girl, repeating the words Marisa Bourgeois had once spoken to him. “The Salt has you in its sway now.”
“No, it doesn’t!” he shouted, even as he retreated to the farthest reaches of the fighting pit island. I’ll make it back…I’ll fight for air…
The girl continued toward him, lifting her arm, pointing behind him. “An ancient and nameless voice sings your name…”
Kellen could not help but look, the sheen on the black water like a mirror, revealing his face as pale and empty and dead as hers. No…
An icy grip clenched his shoulder.
Kellen wheeled about to the dead girl behind him, smiling.
“…its melody dark and deep,” she cooed, shoving him backward.
His arms flailed in search of a hold, finding none. Kellen crashed into the freezing water, the whole of his body submerged. Fight! He forced his eyes open, spinning in search of the surface, nowhere to be found in the murk surrounding him. Wake up!
A blurry light shone from above, dimly revealing a kelp forest all around him.
Again, Kellen felt a tickle on the bottoms of his feet. He kicked it away and breast-stroked toward the light.
The tickle returned with a vengeance, not stopping at his feet, instead snaking around his legs, ensnaring him further with his every futile stroke to break free.
Kellen choked, witnessing his air bubbles rising toward the light. He craned around to free himself and saw what held him fast.
It uttered a single word before releasing him.
Kellen screamed, fighting with every fiber of his being to escape, clawing through water to reach the surface again.
Twelve…ten… His mind ticked off the depth as he rose, not bothering to look back. Eight…six… He reached for the light. Four…two…
Kellen gasped awake next to Marrero. Gulping down air, his heart thundered against his chest as his gaze frantically swept around his cell, finding nothing amiss. Nothing changed about it.
A dream, he thought when Henry gave him an odd look whilst Marrero slept on. Kellen’s head thunked back against the wall. Just a dream.
But an hour later, he doubted it, the uttered word from the nightmare haunting even his waking moments.
Soon, the voice had promised. Soon…
“Move!” Henry called to him. “Move!”
Kellen whipped around, yanking Tieran along with him. A sharp pain grazed the side of his neck as a spear’s edge whizzed past.
The spear thunked beside him in the sand, its tip buried deep, the other end vibrating.
Kellen growled at the spear-thrower – a girl around his age, the lone remaining survivor in her group. You should have kept hiding. He slithered toward her, his adrenaline surging when she backpedaled in retreat. Kellen hissed to keep her from realizing Henry and Marrero had taken the opposite bank, blocking her escape.
The girl drew a knife from her boot.
A horn sounded.
Kellen stopped at once, feeling his chain slacken as Tieran obeyed the call as well. So too did he see Marrero stand down. Still, Henry’s mace continued whirring.
The girl rose from the sand, her dagger raised. “Do it,” she yelled at Kellen. “Come for me!”
Again the horn sounded.
I don’t have to, Kellen thought, seeing Henry stalking up on the girl.
“Kill me!” She flung sand at Kellen. “Just kill—”
The fire in her eyes vanished as Henry’s mace connected with her skull. The blow sent her reeling, painting the air and sand alike red.
The crowd roared approval.
Kellen searched their faces, not finding his master anywhere among the audience. He glanced away from their joy and looked instead on the girl’s body.
You almost had me, he thought, watching her convulse in death’s throes. Almost.
The horn sounded a third time and several owners spilled into the pit, the gatekeeper Roland in tow. The mixed group of owners swam toward the island, their tails morphing to human legs as they rose from the water and stepped upon the beach.
One of the Merrow owners pointed at Henry. “Roland! I want that one dead. Now!”
Henry turned his back to the owner and knelt at the shoreline, cupping his hands in the water and splashing his bloodied face clean.
“What is this disrespect?” the owner shouted at Roland. “We sounded them to stop! And now my fighter is dead for it. Where is his master? I demand repayment for my losses.”
“My friend,” said Roland. “These things happen…”
“Not in any respectable arena.” The owner shrugged away from Roland and stalked toward Henry.
Stand up, Henry, Kellen thought.
“Are you deaf, slave? Did you not hear the conch shell warning?” The owner stopped behind Henry. “Stand and face me. Now!”
Henry did not, continuing to clean his body of sand and blood.
“I said get up!” The owner kicked Henry in the back, sending him into the water.
Ishmael’s immediate command echoed in Kellen’s mind. Make him pay, pup…
Kellen sprang forward, red swirling in his mind. He dove at the owner’s chest, the force carrying both of them into the water and dragging Tieran along with them. The owner’s hands clawed for him, finding no purchase.
“Get off him!” Tieran pulled Kellen back, his chain tugging at the end of his collar.
No…
When the owner’s leg changed to a dolphin tail, Kellen kicked hard with his hind flippers, lashing out again toward his opponent. He bit deep into the owner’s shoulder and tucked his head, allowing his wake to carry him past, spinning both of them.
Now let him go, Ishmael’s voice commanded. Release him.
Kellen relented, leaving the owner to bleed. The tug of his chain called him toward the shore, where he exited the water to further applause.
Ishmael had joined them in the pit, standing next to Roland, and he made a show of frowning as his fighters traipsed onto land.
Lies. Kellen knew Ishmael’s expression. He couldn’t be more thrilled with us.
The wounded owner was rising from the water. “I want both those Lepers’ heads!”
“And yet you’ll have neither,” Ishmael replied. He patted his thigh and waved Kellen to approach, stroking his seal head the moment Kellen joined him.
“I will!” the owner snarled. “I don’t know who you think you are, but my friends and—”
“I know exactly who I am,” said Ishmael. “As do my fighters. Tell me, do you know yourself so well?”
He’s never stood in the pit and faced his death, Kellen thought, when the owner blushed as he waded back to shore, holding his wounded shoulder. Not like me. He glanced to his companions. Not like us.
Ishmael answered his own question. “No, I don’t believe you do. Roland, what do you think?”
“Warned them against coming in here,” said Roland. “Told them it could wait—”
“We’ll deal with you accordingly, Roland,” said the largest of the owners’ group. “The bout was scheduled for our fighters alone. The bets already cast and decision made on who would win. Your continued granting of concessions for this lot has cost us—”
Ishmael cleared his throat and knelt in the sand. “Have any of you ever set foot in the pits before today?”
“We run these pits! And if your fighters want to compete, you’ll have to go through us.”
“Through you?” Ishmael asked. “Truly?”
“Aye.”
“Very well.” Ishmael snatched up a spear and skewered the largest owner.
Kellen tensed as Ishmael engaged the others. Kicking the first away, Ishmael grabbed two more owners by their throats and lifted them off their feet. He knocked their heads together and allowed their limp bodies to drop.
The crowd groaned.
“No! Please—”
Now you know. Kellen watched as Ishmael plucked the spear from his first kill and approached the skewered owner. Stomping on the owner’s chest to keep him in place, Ishmael spun the spear in his hand and drove the tip down, staking his opponent through the neck.
We’re Salted...hardened, Kellen thought as he listened to the skewered owner’s last garbled breath. You’re not.
“Now,” said Ishmael, turning to the water. “Where is my Merrow friend?”
The wounded Merrow had gone, vanished beneath the water.
“Shame that you must come up for air sometime,” Ishmael said as he approached the water’s edge. “The weakness of your kind. Now, where are you…?”
The crowd turned silent as all waited with bated breath for the Merrow to make itself known. Its silvery back broke the surface moments later, its blowhole exhaling giving its presence away.
And now you die too. Kellen stood by as Ishmael dove into the water. He searched the spot his master had entered, waiting for him to emerge again.
Ishmael did not, nor did the Merrow.
“There!” Someone in the crowd pointed toward a thrashing in the water. “Look!”
Red Water…
Kellen backed farther up the shore, retreating from the ever-expanding pool of crimson. That’s how he earned the name.
The thrashing relented, but the crimson hue would not give sway back to the blue. Kellen stared on, conflicted as to whether he should fear such brutality or emulate it in future fights to gain the hushed reaction from the crowd.
The chain around his neck pulled at him. The growl in Kellen’s throat died when he saw not Tieran yanking at him, but Roland.
“Come along, all of you,” said Roland. “Back to your cages. I doubt you’ll want to be around when he comes out of there. Once he tastes blood…”
Kellen tore himself away from the scene and galloped to the ramped pit exit with Tieran in tow. At the crowd’s applause, Kellen glanced back and saw Ishmael’s triangular dorsal fin breaching the surface, circling the island in shark form.
“Hurry now.” Roland freed Marrero first. “Into the tunnels, all of you. At least until I can talk sense into him.”
Kellen opened his mouth for equal treatment when Roland came for him next. The familiar changes from seal to human took hold of him and Kellen stood, barefooted, a moment later.
“Roland—”
Tieran knocked Kellen over, hands wrapped around his throat. “Think you can drag me all over, eh? Think ol’ Tieran’ll stand for that, do you?”
Kellen latched onto Tieran’s wrists, trying to break his grip. He glared into the madman’s eyes.
“Tieran,” Roland yelled, his voice echoing. “Let him go!”
“Nah,” said Tieran. “I’ll not stand down to some mangy slave pup. When ol’ Tieran gives an order, boy, you—”
Kellen rocked back and whipped his left leg up. Catching his heel against Tieran’s nose, Kellen wrenched Tieran backward and off of him. The grip around his throat broken, Kellen sucked air while keeping Tieran locked between his legs and raining fists on Tieran’s face.
Roland pulled him away. “Enough! I didn’t save you from your master’s wrath so you could kill each other now!”
Still gasping for air, Kellen lifted his hands in acknowledgment that he would fight no further.
Tieran groaned from the floor, his face a bloodied pulp.
“Oi!” Roland called to a Selkie wearing an Elephant Seal suit. “Take these three back to their cage and lock them in.” He pointed at Tieran. “Then put this one in a different cell. Ishmael finds out I put them all together and one of them winds up dead, it’ll be my hide he takes next.”
Serves you right. Kellen thought of Tieran as the guard led he, Marrero, and Henry back to the slave quarters. The other fighters banged their fists against the bars, welcoming them home.
Kellen did not acknowledge any of them.
All three companions entered their cage without a fuss. As had become their custom, each distanced themselves from the others by taking separate corners when the lock clicked home.
Calm down. Kellen sat on his heels, his back pressed against the wall. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Calm down before Ishmael gets here.
He did not wait long before Ishmael thundered up the row, stopping at their cage door. “What in a blue hole was that about? You’re partners out there, remember?”
Marrero stood. “Sir, I—”
“Sit down!” Ishmael smacked the bars. “You’re the runt of this group, you know that?”
Marrero bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”
“And you…” Ishmael pointed at Henry. “You nearly got him killed twice! Twice!”
Henry met his master’s stare, but said nothing in his defense.
Ishmael snorted. “You’re not to use the pup as bait again, Henry. If he dies, I can’t enter you four in further melees. Understand?”
Henry blinked in reply.
Ishmael reached through the bars and yanked Henry against the bars.
“O-oui, monsieur,” Henry coughed.
Ishmael released him, his gaze finding Kellen. “Tell me, pup, do you like the pleasures I’ve offered you – the food, the wine, the women? Or do you think such comforts have made you lose focus?”
Kellen glanced at the floor. “I haven’t lost focus, sir.”
“No?” Ishmael asked. “Tell me, then, what were you thinking when that she-devil flung a spear that almost made a home in your throat?”
Kellen licked his lips as his mind searched for a satisfying answer.
“Well?”
Boldness. Kellen glanced up. “I thought she’d make a better whore than a pit fighter, sir.”
Ishmael’s anger broke. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” he said. “Yes, I suppose her owner shared that same thought, though it came to him too late. I’d guess that’s why he bade Roland sound the conch shell to stop the fight. What happened there, Henry? Why didn’t you stop?”
“I am a pit fighter, sir,” said Henry. “I keel anyone placed before me.”
“Live or die, then?” Ishmael asked.
“Oui, monsieur.”
“Good,” said Ishmael. “Because the luck you’ve had thus far won’t hold in the New Pearlaya bouts. Now, learn to fight as a unit already, else I decide none of you are worth my trouble.”
Kellen watched him stalk away, leaving the three of them to brood.
“He’s right, Henry,” said Marrero. “Quit trying to give me up so that—”
“Oui, ’e is,” said Henry. “You are a runt.”
“Hey!” Kellen stepped between them to halt Marrero from rushing Henry.
“You believe ’e cares about you?” Henry asked them both. “No. Only enough to line ’is pockets.”
Marrero shoved off of Kellen. “It doesn’t matter to me whether he cares or not. Just as long as we stay alive long enough—”
“Until what?” Henry asked. “Hmm? What promises ’as ’e made to you? Fight for ’im long enough, win long enough, and ’e weel give you freedom, eh?”
Marrero glanced at Kellen. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Lies,” said Henry. “We weel never go free in ’is charge no matter ’ow much we win.”
“You don’t know that,” said Marrero.
“I do,” said Henry. “I ’ave been both slave and owner in my life. ’E offers you women for bedding, food, and drink for your bellies, and all while you take, never asking why – all to keep you from planning escape.” Henry nodded at Kellen. “Already you forget what you first proposed to me.”
“I haven’t forgot,” said Kellen. “It’s just you’re not exactly the most talkative guy, Henry.”
“For good reason,” said Henry. “I do not trust ’im.”
“Ishmael?”
Henry frowned and lifted his chin in Marrero’s direction. “’Im.”
“Me?” Marrero asked. “You…you don’t trust me? Why—”
“You are weak,” Henry said.
“He’s not,” said Kellen. “I’ve known Marrero all my life. He’d never talk. Never give us up.”
“Are you so sure?” Henry asked. “’E could mean your death.”
“He doesn’t have to worry about me.” Marrero stepped around Kellen and paced toward Henry. “It’s you I hate, Henry. You killed my friends. And whatever you say, I know you’ve been trying to kill me in the pits these last few fights.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed.
“But if you got a way out of here,” Marrero continued. “If you know how to get us home…you can trust me to do anything.”
Kellen stepped between them. “Do you know of a way out, Henry? We’re all ears.”
“I weel find one,” said Henry. “But not from in ’ere. I need to see…to learn more of our surroundings. People. Guards.”
“So what are you saying?” Kellen asked. “You want us to be your eyes and ears or something when Ishmael lets us out at night?”
“No,” said Henry. “Convince ’im to release me too.”
“Schyeah, right,” said Marrero. “If I don’t trust you, why do you think Ishmael would? Besides, he’s not going to listen to a couple of slaves.”
“To you, no,” Henry said to Marrero. Then he looked at Kellen. “But to ’im…”
“Why would he care what I think?” Kellen asked.
“Ishmael favors you,” said Henry. “You would be blind not to see.”
“Then I guess I’m blind,” said Kellen.
Henry shrugged. “Talk to ’im, and we weel know.” He settled into his corner, threading his arms through the empty bar spaces and resting on his elbows. “Or else get comfortable in ’ere, for you weel find no escape unless I ’elp you.”
Marrero tugged on Kellen’s arm, motioning him to follow to the opposite corner.
Kellen obliged him, both teens seating themselves in such a way to keep Henry in their sights.
“I don’t trust him, man,” Marrero whispered. “I don’t know what he’s playing at either, wanting you to talk to Ishmael. Why’s he think you’re favored anyway?”
I’m better than you, that’s why.
Kellen shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Yeah, well, whatever,” said Marrero. “I think he’s jealous Ishmael trusts us enough to let us out at night.”
“Maybe,” said Kellen. “Kinda makes me wonder why let us and Tieran out though, and not Henry.”
“I wouldn’t let him out either. He’s always planning something. Probably knife me in the back the second he was free.” Marrero glanced in Henry’s direction. “No, I don’t trust him. We’re better off figuring out a plan of our own.”
Are we? Kellen kept his stare on Henry.
“What?” Marrero asked. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Okay…”
And you’re not going to like it.
Kellen shifted. “We need him.”
Marrero snorted.
“Say we do make a run for it one night,” said Kellen. “Where do we go? Like Tieran said, it’s not like we can go out the same we came in. Can’t exactly climb the inside of that silo.”
“You don’t know that. There might be a ladder somewhere in the dark. It’s not like we had time to swim all around and check.”
“And we’re gonna have time if we make it back there?” Kellen asked. “You wanna take that chance? Risk making it all the way there only to find out we’re trapped…then what?”
“Fine.” Marrero rubbed his temples. “So how do we get out of here, then? This place is freaking huge.”
“Going back the same way won’t work,” said Kellen. “Can’t exactly fly up the silo and out of here. No, we need to know before we make a run for it. All that time we waste looking for an exit is just time for them to find out we’ve gone missing and sound an alarm.”
“Yeah, fine.” Marrero scooted closer, whispering: “But what’s Henry got to do with that? It’s not like he knows this place any better.”
“Maybe not, but he might recognize things that we don’t.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno,” said Kellen. “That’s the point, idiot! We don’t know—”
“Oh, and Henry might,” Marrero mocked him. “Nah, man. I don’t like it. Here’s what I think – Ishmael keeps talking about us training down here in these fights, then he plans on taking us to the capital, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So then it’s the five of us, out in the open water again,” said Marrero. “Listen, we’ve had a lot of time to get comfortable in these seal bodies, fighting and whatnot. We get out in the open again and with no one around…” Marrero made a fist and tapped it against the opposite palm. “That’s when we hit him.”
“And you say I’m crazy,” said Kellen. “Did you not see what he did to those guys today?”
“He cheated,” said Marrero. “They didn’t know he was coming for them. Just like he won’t know when we’re coming for him. We pick the place and time! Guerilla style, man.”
Idiot. Kellen rested his head against the bars. “You’re going to end up as a pool of red water, dude. Shark food.”
“Maybe,” said Marrero. “But at least I’ll die fighting him.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t plan on dying,” said Kellen. I’m Salted. Hardened.
They sat in silence and took shifts leaning on each other to doze. Each time Kellen nodded off, the twisted faces of those he had slain in the pit fights haunted his dreams. Men and boys trapped beneath dead seals, knowing death came for them, helpless to prevent it, their screams filling his ears. Kellen killed them again and again, trying to shut out the voices, adding his own cries to their own. On and on he fought the nightmares, until only he remained to stand in the bloodied sands.
I’m dreaming, he told himself, trying to conquer the lingering doubt for good and all. I’m not really here. But each time he attempted to wake, he found himself still in the sand, surrounded by the dead. I’m Salted. I’ll make it back…I’ll fight for air…
Noooo… a whispered voice uttered from the depths of the black water, ringing the island. You won’t.
“Wh-who said that?” Kellen raised himself to confront whoever was coming for him next. “Show yourself!”
He regretted it the moment he saw the girl, the same one who had begged him to kill her, her death wound fresh from the dent Henry’s mace had made in her skull. Still she came on, her skin pale and purple as she waded out of the water and onto the shore, her hollow gaze fixed on him. And when she spoke, it was not with her voice, but that of a deep, craggy hag.
“You will never escape, Kellen Winstel…” said the dead girl, repeating the words Marisa Bourgeois had once spoken to him. “The Salt has you in its sway now.”
“No, it doesn’t!” he shouted, even as he retreated to the farthest reaches of the fighting pit island. I’ll make it back…I’ll fight for air…
The girl continued toward him, lifting her arm, pointing behind him. “An ancient and nameless voice sings your name…”
Kellen could not help but look, the sheen on the black water like a mirror, revealing his face as pale and empty and dead as hers. No…
An icy grip clenched his shoulder.
Kellen wheeled about to the dead girl behind him, smiling.
“…its melody dark and deep,” she cooed, shoving him backward.
His arms flailed in search of a hold, finding none. Kellen crashed into the freezing water, the whole of his body submerged. Fight! He forced his eyes open, spinning in search of the surface, nowhere to be found in the murk surrounding him. Wake up!
A blurry light shone from above, dimly revealing a kelp forest all around him.
Again, Kellen felt a tickle on the bottoms of his feet. He kicked it away and breast-stroked toward the light.
The tickle returned with a vengeance, not stopping at his feet, instead snaking around his legs, ensnaring him further with his every futile stroke to break free.
Kellen choked, witnessing his air bubbles rising toward the light. He craned around to free himself and saw what held him fast.
It uttered a single word before releasing him.
Kellen screamed, fighting with every fiber of his being to escape, clawing through water to reach the surface again.
Twelve…ten… His mind ticked off the depth as he rose, not bothering to look back. Eight…six… He reached for the light. Four…two…
Kellen gasped awake next to Marrero. Gulping down air, his heart thundered against his chest as his gaze frantically swept around his cell, finding nothing amiss. Nothing changed about it.
A dream, he thought when Henry gave him an odd look whilst Marrero slept on. Kellen’s head thunked back against the wall. Just a dream.
But an hour later, he doubted it, the uttered word from the nightmare haunting even his waking moments.
Soon, the voice had promised. Soon…