Sea Dragon
Depths of Magic #3 by Emma Shelford
Chapter One (first draft)
Depths of Magic #3 by Emma Shelford
Chapter One (first draft)
A suction cup tickled my shoulder. I swatted it away, laughing.
I know you’re there, I said to Squirter, my octopus friend. Want me to chase you?
Chase, he replied. His graceful body floated midwater in front of me, its flexible movement hiding strong muscles under a layer of textured skin in everchanging hues of reds, creams, and oranges. Squirter gazed at me with his yellow eye for a moment. When I grinned and reached out for him, he gathered himself and jetted away.
My eyebrows rose at the little octopus’s speed. Was he faster than usual? He was only a baby, after all. I supposed it was natural that he would gain strength and size at some point.
I’d never catch him if I didn’t try. With a grimace of determination, I pushed my body forward through the water with powerful undulations of my legs. The ocean was my element as much as it was Squirter’s, after all.
Squirter disappeared into the murky green water of the upper water column, but I didn’t need eyes to see him. Faint currents caressed my skin and painted a far more vibrant picture than the one my eyes gave me.
A school of perch flitted to my left, and an outcropping of rock jutted up from the seafloor, covered in anemones and giant barnacles. In the waves above, driftwood rolled and plunged. Squirter was ahead, and I pushed harder to catch up.
Grace, the substance that pale folk ate to maintain their underwater abilities, flowed through my veins. I could feel its power driving my limbs, and I appreciated the heightened skin sense it provided. My mind drifted to the rogue faction from my former underwater home. Where they still vent-bent on stopping all Grace from leaving the Seamount? I hadn’t heard any news since we’d rescued the kidnapped half-sirens and demolished the army of mer folk holding them hostage.
I shuddered at the memory of stabbing the seal shifter Selo, then I put it from my mind. No good would come of rehashing that act of brutality—and the shark feast that had followed—and I had a wayward octopus to catch.
Squirter paused for a moment to see where I’d got to, and it was only then that I managed to catch up and squeeze the tip of one arm. He crawled over me in his delight, and I tickled his mantle between the eyes.
A large body emerged at the edge of my skin sense. Had my thought of sharks conjured one out of the depths? It was large, at least three times as long as I was, and it moved slowly but purposefully in my direction. I frowned and scratched Squirter’s mantle again. I wasn’t nervous—my ability to compel and control other creatures was strong enough that I didn’t have to worry about the intentions of the shark—but it always paid to be wary of large predators.
Squirter finally noticed the shark’s approach, and he stilled. I gave him a swift hug.
It’s fine, I said. You’re with me.
He curled the tip of an arm around my ear, but his eyes continued to face the threat.
There was no point in interacting with the shark if I didn’t need to, especially if it made Squirter nervous. I swam downward with the octopus gripped onto my shoulder and trailing his unattached arms behind me like loose seaweed.
The shark changed direction to follow us. My heartrate quickened. What did the predator want from us? If it didn’t stop following me soon, I would have to siren it. One glance at Squirter tucked close to my body, and I decided to compel the shark now. My little friend was frightened, and I wanted to ease his fears.
I hummed deep in my chest, a soft sirening of disinterest and redirection. It would turn anyone approaching from their path, away from us.
The shark twitched but kept coming. A flicker of alarm jolted in my stomach, and I increased my sound from gentle to strident. The shark slowed slightly but continued to swim directly toward us.
My sirening wasn’t working. I could figure out why later. For now, I needed to get us away from the approaching menace with teeth like bone knives and a singlemindedness intent. I turned and undulated to my right, where a kelp forest loomed in my skin sense. If sirening wasn’t working, maybe old-fashioned hiding would.
I didn’t give up my song, though. Instead of misdirection, I belted out a call to stop and turn around. Subtle wasn’t what I strived for anymore. I wanted our pursuer gone.
My skin sense told me what my forward-facing eyes couldn’t see: the shark growing ever closer. I desperately undulated my body. The kelp forest wasn’t far away, but it was too far for comfort. Squirter pressed himself against my back to make himself as streamlined as possible.
The shark darted forward, and it was only my heightened skin sense that alerted me to the movement quickly enough. I jerked my leg out of the path of the shark’s mouth and dived in a zigzag pattern to disorient the animal. My body flushed with the heat of exertion and fear.
The weight of Squirter on my shoulder disappeared, and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest in terror. I spun around to see and feel the scene behind me.
Squirter grasped onto the shark’s head with his suction cups. By the way the shark twitched, I guessed that Squirter’s sharp beak was biting the giant fish with all its might.
My jaw dropped at Squirter’s aggressiveness. He was so small that he usually relied on me to protect him. What had prompted this display of bravery?
One of his arms dangled, forgotten, in front of the shark’s mouth. The animal snapped at it and almost made contact. Squirter slithered the arm out of reach, but the close call jolted me out of my amazement. My friend needed help.
I screamed a blasting call of disorientation. Squirter drifted off the shark, momentarily stunned, and the shark paused for a long moment. Then it faced me—reminded of its larger target—and lunged toward me.
Whoops. I backpedaled toward the kelp forest, but I was nowhere near fast enough to escape the shark. My back-and-forth movements would only work for so long. Could I make it to the forest?
A cloud of ink, larger than any I’d ever seen Squirter make, ballooned over the shark’s eyes. My skin sensed the animal pause in confusion, and a small creature jetting toward me. I turned in relief and darted into the wavy fronds of the kelp forest, Squirter close behind.
I kept my skin sense on high alert, although it was hampered by the kelp stipes brushing against my arms. We were lucky that this patch of bull kelp was still here. Winter storms hadn’t yet arrived to tear their holdfasts away from the rocks, although that would happen any day now.
I glanced back through the murk, but nothing chased us. The shark must have finally decided that we weren’t worth the hassle of chasing.
That brought my thoughts around to why the shark hadn’t responded to my sirening, at least not until my powerful blast at the end. It could have been an animal resistant to compulsion—it was rare, but could happen naturally—but my mind drifted to another threat that had been lurking ever since the battle for the kidnapped half-sirens. Marina Highcave, daughter of the siren Seamount Protector, lover of the man I’d killed, and avowed bringer of Seamount justice, had seen me a few weeks ago. I’d faked my death before, and she’d bought the story until she’d seen my face. Surely it was only a matter of time before she caught up with me again to take her revenge? If the shark were already compelled by a strong siren, that would explain my inability to stop the animal.
Maybe I was being paranoid. Why wouldn’t she come herself to finish me off? She was powerful, after all.
Because the upper echelons don’t like getting their hands dirty, a little voice whispered to me.
Squirter touched my arm, and I brought my mind back to the present moment.
Big ink, I said to him. Good job.
Squirter’s skin flushed a bruised purple with pride.
I know you’re there, I said to Squirter, my octopus friend. Want me to chase you?
Chase, he replied. His graceful body floated midwater in front of me, its flexible movement hiding strong muscles under a layer of textured skin in everchanging hues of reds, creams, and oranges. Squirter gazed at me with his yellow eye for a moment. When I grinned and reached out for him, he gathered himself and jetted away.
My eyebrows rose at the little octopus’s speed. Was he faster than usual? He was only a baby, after all. I supposed it was natural that he would gain strength and size at some point.
I’d never catch him if I didn’t try. With a grimace of determination, I pushed my body forward through the water with powerful undulations of my legs. The ocean was my element as much as it was Squirter’s, after all.
Squirter disappeared into the murky green water of the upper water column, but I didn’t need eyes to see him. Faint currents caressed my skin and painted a far more vibrant picture than the one my eyes gave me.
A school of perch flitted to my left, and an outcropping of rock jutted up from the seafloor, covered in anemones and giant barnacles. In the waves above, driftwood rolled and plunged. Squirter was ahead, and I pushed harder to catch up.
Grace, the substance that pale folk ate to maintain their underwater abilities, flowed through my veins. I could feel its power driving my limbs, and I appreciated the heightened skin sense it provided. My mind drifted to the rogue faction from my former underwater home. Where they still vent-bent on stopping all Grace from leaving the Seamount? I hadn’t heard any news since we’d rescued the kidnapped half-sirens and demolished the army of mer folk holding them hostage.
I shuddered at the memory of stabbing the seal shifter Selo, then I put it from my mind. No good would come of rehashing that act of brutality—and the shark feast that had followed—and I had a wayward octopus to catch.
Squirter paused for a moment to see where I’d got to, and it was only then that I managed to catch up and squeeze the tip of one arm. He crawled over me in his delight, and I tickled his mantle between the eyes.
A large body emerged at the edge of my skin sense. Had my thought of sharks conjured one out of the depths? It was large, at least three times as long as I was, and it moved slowly but purposefully in my direction. I frowned and scratched Squirter’s mantle again. I wasn’t nervous—my ability to compel and control other creatures was strong enough that I didn’t have to worry about the intentions of the shark—but it always paid to be wary of large predators.
Squirter finally noticed the shark’s approach, and he stilled. I gave him a swift hug.
It’s fine, I said. You’re with me.
He curled the tip of an arm around my ear, but his eyes continued to face the threat.
There was no point in interacting with the shark if I didn’t need to, especially if it made Squirter nervous. I swam downward with the octopus gripped onto my shoulder and trailing his unattached arms behind me like loose seaweed.
The shark changed direction to follow us. My heartrate quickened. What did the predator want from us? If it didn’t stop following me soon, I would have to siren it. One glance at Squirter tucked close to my body, and I decided to compel the shark now. My little friend was frightened, and I wanted to ease his fears.
I hummed deep in my chest, a soft sirening of disinterest and redirection. It would turn anyone approaching from their path, away from us.
The shark twitched but kept coming. A flicker of alarm jolted in my stomach, and I increased my sound from gentle to strident. The shark slowed slightly but continued to swim directly toward us.
My sirening wasn’t working. I could figure out why later. For now, I needed to get us away from the approaching menace with teeth like bone knives and a singlemindedness intent. I turned and undulated to my right, where a kelp forest loomed in my skin sense. If sirening wasn’t working, maybe old-fashioned hiding would.
I didn’t give up my song, though. Instead of misdirection, I belted out a call to stop and turn around. Subtle wasn’t what I strived for anymore. I wanted our pursuer gone.
My skin sense told me what my forward-facing eyes couldn’t see: the shark growing ever closer. I desperately undulated my body. The kelp forest wasn’t far away, but it was too far for comfort. Squirter pressed himself against my back to make himself as streamlined as possible.
The shark darted forward, and it was only my heightened skin sense that alerted me to the movement quickly enough. I jerked my leg out of the path of the shark’s mouth and dived in a zigzag pattern to disorient the animal. My body flushed with the heat of exertion and fear.
The weight of Squirter on my shoulder disappeared, and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest in terror. I spun around to see and feel the scene behind me.
Squirter grasped onto the shark’s head with his suction cups. By the way the shark twitched, I guessed that Squirter’s sharp beak was biting the giant fish with all its might.
My jaw dropped at Squirter’s aggressiveness. He was so small that he usually relied on me to protect him. What had prompted this display of bravery?
One of his arms dangled, forgotten, in front of the shark’s mouth. The animal snapped at it and almost made contact. Squirter slithered the arm out of reach, but the close call jolted me out of my amazement. My friend needed help.
I screamed a blasting call of disorientation. Squirter drifted off the shark, momentarily stunned, and the shark paused for a long moment. Then it faced me—reminded of its larger target—and lunged toward me.
Whoops. I backpedaled toward the kelp forest, but I was nowhere near fast enough to escape the shark. My back-and-forth movements would only work for so long. Could I make it to the forest?
A cloud of ink, larger than any I’d ever seen Squirter make, ballooned over the shark’s eyes. My skin sensed the animal pause in confusion, and a small creature jetting toward me. I turned in relief and darted into the wavy fronds of the kelp forest, Squirter close behind.
I kept my skin sense on high alert, although it was hampered by the kelp stipes brushing against my arms. We were lucky that this patch of bull kelp was still here. Winter storms hadn’t yet arrived to tear their holdfasts away from the rocks, although that would happen any day now.
I glanced back through the murk, but nothing chased us. The shark must have finally decided that we weren’t worth the hassle of chasing.
That brought my thoughts around to why the shark hadn’t responded to my sirening, at least not until my powerful blast at the end. It could have been an animal resistant to compulsion—it was rare, but could happen naturally—but my mind drifted to another threat that had been lurking ever since the battle for the kidnapped half-sirens. Marina Highcave, daughter of the siren Seamount Protector, lover of the man I’d killed, and avowed bringer of Seamount justice, had seen me a few weeks ago. I’d faked my death before, and she’d bought the story until she’d seen my face. Surely it was only a matter of time before she caught up with me again to take her revenge? If the shark were already compelled by a strong siren, that would explain my inability to stop the animal.
Maybe I was being paranoid. Why wouldn’t she come herself to finish me off? She was powerful, after all.
Because the upper echelons don’t like getting their hands dirty, a little voice whispered to me.
Squirter touched my arm, and I brought my mind back to the present moment.
Big ink, I said to him. Good job.
Squirter’s skin flushed a bruised purple with pride.
Like this sample chapter of Sea Dragon? Then pre-order on your favorite retailer today!