From the top of the cliff, Riko could see the South Island as a whole. A little desolate expanse of volcanic, wind-scarred earth. A dead canvas painted with strokes of dry bushes and innumerable bones. The only splashes of color came from the flocks of striped birds dancing above, their cries echoing against the backdrop of a ceaseless wind. The harsh bursts sweeping across the barren had turned warmer as the morning unfolded, yet they had increased in ferocity, so toes still ached, as did fingers and faces.

  “These shores are treacherous,” Timo said, as he stepped dangerously over the cliff. “When the storm arrives, we will lose them all.”

  Riko cast his gaze over the vast expanse of a terrifying sky. The horizon darkened with the ominous beast coming. The sun, candid the day before, was now swollen inside a cloudy mass swirling at wind’s command. To the sinister picture, added the roar of thunders, lulled less and less as distance closed.

  Below, Riko’s fleet struggled to find any haven on a treacherous coast sparkled in rapidly rising waters. The navy of the new Kraken, which gathered in the southern islands, where there were more natural shelters from the elements, was now at the mercy of a sea crashing against the jagged shoreline.

  “That dog knew what was comin’.” Gerard, one of the Blue Triton’s carpenters, spat into the precipice. “He first says yes,and gets guns for his ships and supplies for his men. Then say no but keep them. Then says he will give everything back.Then nay. Then aye, then nay… Rubbish! Weeks and weeks of ignoring you and all of a sudden he wants to talk? Parni port!”

  “He knows he can’t beat us,” Dean, one of the Khissar’s marines, said. “It’s obvious he plans to maroon us in this whale’s grave.”

  Riko’s throat echoed with a low, contemplative hum, the sound the sound lost between the gust of wind.

  “Be careful who you call a dog, idiots,” Timo said. “And stop clucking like old hens. Riko knows it, and he doesn’t need to hear the same mumbles all the time.”

  “The shores are treacherous. We will lose the fleet.” Dean parroted. “Who’s an old hen?”

  Timo clenched his jaw and turned to Riko, perhaps hoping the Chief would end the discussion. Instead, Riko began his descent down the steep slope in silence. The earth beneath, muddy at some points and brittle at others, turned unreliable. He maintained a steady pace, gaining distance against his entourage of squids, who barely managed to stay on their feet. As he reached the end of the slope and the beginning of a small hill, a small track revealed itself before him, winding its way up through boulders and whale bones. At the end of the path and side top of the hill stood a pitiful encampment of rag tents and a few mud-stoned huts. The pleasant scent of the island’s moss and salt became heavy with the fumes of boiled grease and barbecued birds.

  With the arrival of the squid procession, the few whalers present, all of them deplorable in appearance and demeanor, turned to stone. Their faces tensed, their hands trembled. Riko paused for a moment to take in them and their home, feeling a strange blend of nostalgia. These weren’t soldiers. Not even close. But even so, they were tough men, facing conditions as harsh as those he’d once experienced in the distant colonies. A place just as cold and inhospitable as there.

  The World’s End, a little island’s cluster far southeast of the Ring of Commerce, was the realm of those who fled and wanted to be forgotten. Its islands, once home of tribal sea nomads surviving on the meat and skins of seals, turned into self made and unrecognized kingdoms. Each one with a self-proclaimed king who once was a veteran of the old wars. Riko knew them all. Some had fought with him. Others traded. And all had, at one point or another, accommodated mercenaries who needed to hide. The navy had been on every island, and all had agreed to return favors. All except this one.

  When Riko stopped at the biggest hut’s entrance, he waited stoically for his procession of squids. As they surrounded him, the two guards distanced themselves from the door and disappeared among bundles of junk.

  The hut, bigger than any other but equally ruinous, had a hall adorned with hanging skulls and furs to hide its poorly made structure. At its center burned an enormous fireplace and beyond lay a small alcove with a higher ground, where an imposing chair sat atop a raised platform. It was shaped like a throne and sitting on it, the king waited.

  Wrapped in white furs, he held with pride a scepter and a crown made of bone. Two men escorted him, armed with stone-tipped spears. Both dressed in furs like men of old and both burly and well-fed. A contrast to those outside, way thinner, and a contrast to the king as well, a man laying in the complete opposite.

  “Look at this beard and long hair,” chuckled the Kolo. “You think you can fool anyone?”

  Riko scratched his bushy beard as he replied, “If you didn’t make us wait so long to see you...”

  Kolo burst into a chortle; his oily face and bloated belly rippling at the sound of his laugh.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “I was busy,” Kolo said, giving little effort to hide his lie. “Preparing the ships you asked for.”

  Timo held back a huff and whispered quietly, “Let’s not waste any more time. We have everything we need to send this idiot straight to hell.”

  “Not yet,” Riko whispered back before raising his tone to the Kolo. “Those ships you took without permission, you mean? Thank you for returning them. I do hope you also consider returning the artillery of the others who I sent. Few, but yet, I don’t want to depart without them.”

  Kolo’s grin widened, the fireplace light reflecting in his eyes. “Artillery? What are you talking about?”

  “Stop wasting time!” Timo’s togue snapped. “Give back the artillery!”

  Riko raised his hand, and his subordinate’s animosity banished. “Really, Albert, what do you want?” he said, commanding the most courteous and warm tone that his impatience could bear. “Gus, Bert and Fran agreed to join me. The others too, and amongst all brothers, you were who I expected to join me first. I am deeply disappointed. What… do.. you… want?”

  Kolo’s amusement faded as he stared at Riko. “What do I want? I want you to remember what that one-eyed bastard did to your friends in Balusta and mine it Zacra. And when you do, swear by our bond as warriors that you will make him pay.”

  Riko blinked. His memory returned for a moment to times he didn’t want to remember, and people he didn’t want to see again. “That’s all? You could have told me earlier and saved me some valuable time.”

  The Kolo raised his legs, both lacking feet. “Would have come to your settlement, but you see… It’s a hard life here.”

  Riko’s patience turned thin. “All right. I will hunt him and bring him to you. But only after I finish my fight. Not before. Now, get your men out of that barn and we’ll take the cannons.”

  “My guys will bring them to the ships. And regarding your ships. My guys can’t use the down- shore. Neither sail with such an amount of hulls around. The whales are scared and ain’t close. We are starving here. We want some compensation for the troubles.”

  Riko grabbed the collar of his wool jacket and pulled it down, resting his arms in a confident stance. Then he took a quick step forward, striking fear on the Kolo’s guards. ”Enough of this nonsense. We will not tolerate any more delays. Nor will we offer any additional payment. I have spoken to the other brothers, Albert. I know they had visitors: the same ones you had. The difference is they didn’t bend to the threats. This charade ends here. I assure you, I will hunt down Van Zhoar and ensure he faces the consequences of his actions. And if you allow us to depart today without further complications, I swear I will overlook your betrayal and leave you to your desolate existence in this forsaken place."

  In the gathering's heart, a tension-filled silence stretched between Riko and the men before him. Time freezing like the outside winds. Riko stood tall, his eyes fixed on Kolo. Sure that if his threat had no effect, little his adversaries could do to end up crushed. Kolo rooted to his throne as if he had suddenly become part of it. Tears of oily sweat dripping from his face, fingers tapping the chair’s arm at a fast pace.

  The king squirmed for a while before settling still after a sigh. “All right. You swore. Find him and make him pay.”

  Riko turned, determined and pressed, his silent farewell unleashing a vomit of screams from Kolo.

  “Disappointed you say? Don’t make me laugh! I am the disappointed one! How are you to judge us? You who joined the Kraken! The Kraken! Herjard! Shame on you!”

  Riko reached the exterior, yet he could still hear the yelling from the outside. “You believe we planned to attack you? How dare you! We had no choice. Our only chance of survival is with the commerce of the Wilds. They threatened to cut our supplies and destroy the factories in Hamakan. What could have we done? This island is shit. We don’t have the same resources as the others! We had no choice! Riko, come back. Please…Rick!”

  But Riko didn’t go back. Breathing in a deep, icy breath of the morning air, he headed to the shores. To the trek of the Bones and down to the Openings, where his men had built a little camp next to the only place anyone could land on such an island.

  Timo’s whistle broke through the wind and the big kraken force waiting in the distance rushed closer. The squids, following Timo’s instructions, rushed uphills, to where the cannons were held hostage.

  Riko, with only two men left at his side, crossed the bleak fields, the weight of regret heavy on him. The inability to fix the past and its mistakes became worse than any pain, any injury. He’d spent his entire life without the burden of feeling. But since he’d taken the girl under his wing, she’d softened him. He’d taught her how to fight and govern, and in return, she’d taught him how to be more human. And that gift, which he had received with the same joy a hungry child eats a piece of bread, was a welcome curse.

  Midway down towards his lower lands campsite, footsteps resounded through the boulders. Noises only his heightened senses could hear. He halted and his two companions laid hands on their pistols. Not because they had heard anything, but because they knew him well. Riko would not have stopped if there was no danger.

  A figure with raised hands appeared first, followed by a few others. “Sir, it’s me. Kiran. The storm. It’s almost here. We can’t delay any longer. Captain Abbar request permission to sail south and then change course to west. We could reach Ujan …”

  “Nay,” Riko cut. “We are all departing today and heading north as soon as we get the cannons. Tell all able hands in camp to help.”

  “But that’s an ugly one, sir… churning like a devil’s cauldron. A ship’s grave, that’s what it is.”

  “We will avoid it. South winds have blessed the recent evenings. Let’s do a double spin to call for the Lady’s luck, so today is another same. And if the blows of Saunt don’t come to our aid tonight, we will dance with her as if she’s as pretty as the captain’s daughter.”