From the Depths: The Heart of Quinaria Novella by B. S. H. Garcia

Author:B. S. H. Garcia [Garcia, B. S. H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lost Relic Publishing
Published: 2024-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

KONAR

“You missed it, Bretata. One of the monsters from your books.”

Karliah’s wild eyes hooked Konar’s gaze and held it as he came to on the crowded landboat, his head cradled in Amma’s lap as his nostrils filled with a mixture of brine and sweat-tinged musk. His head throbbed, and a damp chill laced his skin from the still wet clothes plastered to his body. Water slapped against the side of the landboat, and above him flickered the last few stars, fighting for a chance to shine amid the graying sky. He lay there, eyelids heavy as Amma stroked his head and whispered his name in a prayer-like exhale, and he could’ve continued to do so had Karliah not gripped his hand with thin, sharp nails.

“Monster?” Konar mumbled, the words scraping against his throat.

Karliah glanced over her shoulder with caution. “A seaserpent,” she whispered, returning her attention to him. “It ate the other ship. Dragged it down to a watery grave. It probably would’ve eaten The Umbra, too, if Appa hadn’t—”

Amma silenced Karliah with a stern look.

Konar rubbed his eyes, thoughts tossing as wildly as the waves had the night prior. “A real seaserpent?” A tinge of regret sprung up in his chest and tightened his already sore throat. How come he, the researcher, the believer, the well-intended scholar, had missed out on such an amazing discovery? “How big was it? Did it have the ability to conceal itself, as the legends say? Did—”

Appa grabbed Konar’s arm and jerked him to a seated position where he examined his son’s body in a detached, probing manner, not unlike the techniques used by domesticators and healers. “Now is not the time for questions. Are you hurt?”

“I’m alright, Appa,” Konar muttered as he threw Amma a glance to silence her incoming protests.

Appa wrinkled his nose, then returned his attention to the water. “Good. Then you’re fit for rowing.”

Konar found an oar in his hands before he could dispute the assignment. He moved into position beside Azra, Gerosa and Barky seated across from him, all of them glistening with sweat, the muscles on their forearms bulging as they cut through the water to an unknown destination. The nyrian and beridian regarded Konar with irritated disdain, but Barky offered one of his famous—however diluted—grins.

“Be glad you didn’t lay eyes upon it, lad,” Barky said, giving Konar’s neck a squeeze. “Took ten years off my life just looking at it, so it did.” The cook’s fingers, usually warm with life (if not a bit calloused), were stiff and cool, their deftness all but non-existent.

Karliah peered doubtfully over the side of the landboat. An older, more detached presence seemed to embody her as she crawled back to the center of the boat and tucked her knees beneath her chin. “The myrem don’t want us here.”

“Hush, girl,” Amma hissed, picking her own oar back up.

Azra glared, and Gerosa muttered something in the language of his kind, but no one hurried to tell Karliah she was a foolish girl, that the myrem didn’t care, much less exist.

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