They kept going, and the sounds behind them grew more distant.
“Reckon it’s given up, Stryke?” Jup asked.
“Don’t know. Could be.”
“How far do you think those limbs can reach?” Coilla wondered.
“An incredibly long way,” Spurral told her.
“More good news,” Haskeer grumbled.
Stryke looked doubtful. “Not this far, surely?”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Spurral said.
“This isn’t that big an island,” Jup reminded them, “and it’s much longer than it’s wide. So wherever we go we could be within its reach.”
“Perhaps not,” Pepperdyne replied.
“What do you mean?”
“A creature the size of the Krake would live in deep water. It might not even be able to come on land, the same way a fish can’t. Which is why it uses its tentacles to snare prey.”
“How does this help us?” Stryke wanted to know.
“Those islands not far from the shore we’re heading towards. The scouts said the water’s shallow enough for us to wade across.”
“There’s nothing but rock over there.”
“The important thing is the depth of the water around the islands. It wouldn’t be deep enough for something as large as the Krake.”
“You’re guessing that. Like you’re guessing those tentacles couldn’t stretch as far as the islands.”
“If they can,” Jup said, “with no shelter over there we’d be ripe for the plucking.”
“You’re right,” Pepperdyne said, “I’m guessing. But has anybody got a better idea?”
The ensuing silence was broken by a fresh upheaval behind them. Two or three tentacles were coming their way.
“We’ll do it,” Stryke decided. “Let’s move.”
They had to travel faster, whatever the obstructions; the limbs were noisily closing the gap. After what seemed an age the jungle began to thin. The trees were sparser and they had glimpses of a much brighter, open space beyond.
Shortly after, they burst out of the jungle. They were on a beach, meaner and more pebbly than the one they had started from. Not far offshore, perhaps a decent arrow shot away, was the nearest of the adjacent islands. It was much smaller than the one they were on, and completely stark.
Snatching a spear from one of the grunts, Haskeer hurled it high and arcing, so that it came down about a third of the distance to the island. It landed almost upright, less than half its length submerged.
“If it’s the same all the way across,” Coilla said, “we shouldn’t be more than waist deep.”
Haskeer jabbed a thumb at the dwarfs. “Except for these two shortarses. It’ll be up to their necks.”
“We’ll manage just fine,” Spurral told him coldly.
“Even if it is too deep to wade,” Standeven said, making a rare contribution, “couldn’t you swim?”
“With all our weapons, all our kit?” Pepperdyne retorted.
“All right, all right. I only asked. It’s not as though I can swim anyway.”
That drew a chorus of groans.
Pepperdyne glared at him. “Just… shut up.”
Ominous sounds were still coming from the jungle, faint but distinct.
“Are we going to get on and do this, Stryke?” Coilla asked, eyeing the barren island.
“Yeah.”
“Suppose those tentacles can reach this far,” Haskeer said. “If we get caught out there we’re done for.”
“Then don’t linger,” Pepperdyne told him.
“If you’re wrong, human…”
“Do we have a choice?”
“Let’s go,” Stryke ordered.
They moved forward and entered the water, many of them holding their weapons above their heads.
About a third of the way across, one of the grunts cried out and pointed. Everybody looked back. A couple of tentacles were rummaging around the beach they’d just left. As the band watched, several more appeared, twisting high above the trees.
“They’re not following,” Coilla said. “Maybe they’ve come to their limit.”
“Maybe,” Stryke replied. “Let’s not hang around to find out.”
They carried on, casting anxious glances over their shoulders. The Krake’s arms stayed where they were, exploring the terrain like snuffling hounds, and a couple more emerged from the jungle to join them.
At length the Wolverines reached the desolate island and dragged themselves onto its rocky shore. They climbed to its highest point, actually a very modest elevation, and kept watch.
“Suppose it doesn’t go away?” Wheam said.
“If it’s like any other animal,” Stryke replied, “it’ll tire or get hungry and look for easier prey.”
“How long’s that likely to be?” Jup wondered.
“We’ll see.”
They settled down, their damp clothes steaming in the heat of the sun.
Enough time passed for their clothing to dry, and tempers to start growing thin, before anything happened.
“Heads up!” Jup shouted.
As one, all the tentacles were rapidly withdrawing.
“It’s gone,” Dallog said.
“Hold your horses,” Stryke cautioned, “it’s not over yet. Now we wait and see if the water really is shallow enough to keep that thing away from this side.”
“Yeah,” Haskeer said, casting a hostile glance Pepperdyne’s way.
Again they waited. And Stryke made it a long wait, to be sure. The shadows were lengthening when he judged the time right for a move. Cautiously, the band waded back to the main island. They did it in silence, save for Haskeer’s muttered grumbling about getting soaked again. Once there, Stryke sent Nep, Eldo and Seafe ahead as scouts.
Before the band got to the beach where their ship was anchored, the scouts were back.
“It’s left,” Seafe reported.
“You sure?” Stryke said.
“We couldn’t see it. And it’s too big to miss.”
“Good.”
“We don’t get off that light though, Captain. Our ship’s been damaged.”
“Shit. Bad?”
“Well, it’s still floating. But it’s messed up. Reckon the Krake gave it a slap before it went.”
Stryke sent a party out, including Pepperdyne, to assess the damage.
“It looks grim, but I think most of it can be repaired,” the human explained a little later. “It’s taking on some water, and the main mast took a whack. They’re the most important things to take care of.”
“How long?”
“Couple of days.”
“Too long.”
“Might get it down to one if we all sweat.”
“What do you need?”
“Timber, mainly. There’s wood in the jungle here that’d do. Not ideal, but-”
“Let’s get started.”
“It’s not far off night. You want us to work in the dark?”
“Needs must.”
“Stryke, once the ship’s righted, then what?”
“We’ll get to that.”
