--5--

TO KILL A KRAKEN

“To kill a kraken, I’ll need surprise,” said Dane after he untangled himself from Shera the next morning.

“But I thought you could protect my next ship when it left port,” countered the queen.

“No, it’s best if I go alone to search for it. I also must have a stout spear in case my sword fails.”

Shera crawled from bed and led Dane to a beautifully inlaid chest filled with all manner of weapons. He was nearly blinded by the flash of steel when she cracked open her war hoard. Bright jewels encrusted the handles of many fine swords, and carvings of dragons and griffins graced the blades. The spears also were magnificent. Each was well balanced by a butt cap and displayed the finest craftsmanship. What drew Dane’s eye, though, was a trident that had twice the reach of any spear. When he hefted it in his hand, he felt confidence surge through him. To complement his other weapons, the Viking chose a dirk for stabbing and close combat.

Now armed, Dane strode toward the chamber door. When Shera tried to kiss him goodbye, he pushed her roughly away and snarled, “Save it for when I return, woman. My mind must be clear and my hand steady if I’m to defeat this monster.”

A surprised cry burst from the queen’s throat. Amazed that a man should stand up to her, she flexed her long fingernails. But instead of confronting Dane, she muttered, “Yes, kill this kraken for me.”

The Viking entered the maze of torch-lit passageways. There, a queue of emaciated men stared numbly at him with dead eyes. Brushing past them in disgust, he grunted, “So this is what Shera’s love does? Only with me, she will fail! I fight this monster not for her, but for the good of the seafarer.”

Growling with resolve, Dane located the queen’s secret exit. When he stepped outside, he saw that the sea was calm. Only a few small rollers lapped the beach as Dane waded into the ocean up to his chest. Taking a deep breath, he plunged underwater and swam with his trident held in readiness before him.

Sunlight stabbed through the depths, illuminating large schools of silver fish. The water glowed with iridescent colors, and Dane thought of the rainbow bridge leading to Asgard. Inspired by the celestial hues, he swam with renewed vigor.

The Viking surged forward until his lungs were ready to burst. Surfacing for air, he spied what looked like an island, a mile and a half across. Near the treeless mass was an abnormal thrashing. Proceeding with caution, he gasped when ten red tentacles swirled in the sea before him. The elastic arms shot out to snare Dane, and he paddled wildly away from the death grip of the mighty kraken.

Wulfdin stared in awe at the monster’s head. As big as a cask, it was dominated by two round eyes each a foot in diameter. It was also equipped with a parrot-like beak that was equally frightening. Its tentacles were arranged in a circle around its maw, and the Viking dove when they snapped near his torso.

Remembering the trident clutched in his hand, Dane swam beneath the creature’s mantle and rammed his weapon deep into its belly. The sea churned as the monster writhed in agony. Then, Wulfdin was enveloped in an inky cloud that choked and disoriented him.

After Dane’s vision cleared, he watched water shoot from the kraken’s torso, propelling it forward with amazing speed. Latching onto the flapping tail, he rode it to the surface for another gulp of oxygen. In the next instant, he was flipped high into the air to land not five feet from the huge right eye. Before Dane could poke out the orb, a tentacle twined around his waist. He shrieked as it sucked at his flesh, leaving bloody circles while it pulled him under.

Dane was lashed back and forth until cobwebs clogged his brain. Somehow, he drew his sword and hacked at the monster. It squirted blood and another cloud of ink when the blade bit deeper. Slashing with frenzy, he severed the tentacle that gripped him.

Again, the warrior shot to the surface for a lungful of oxygen before another tentacle pulled him under. This time, it yanked him straight into the monster’s beak. As a tongue full of file-like teeth shot out to shred his legs, Dane drove his trident deep down the exposed throat until the creature regurgitated gore. When the thrust caused the sucker-lined arms to lose their grip, Wulfdin broke free.

In desperation, Dane swam for the top of the kraken’s head. He stabbed his sword deep into its brain, and the monster vomited a million air bubbles. As death froze its colossal eyes, it plummeted to the sea bottom, trailing blood and limp tentacles.

Dane followed the kraken to its murky grave to retrieve his sword. The blade, however, was embedded too deep to withdraw it. Yanking out his dirk, he hacked off a sucker-lined feeler as proof of his kill.

So lightly armed, the Viking felt vulnerable as he hauled his bloody prize back to shore. He swam slowly, peering into weed beds and beneath the rafts of floating kelp. But the violence of his battle had frightened the creatures of the sea. Even sharks retreated when they saw his shadow.

Dane didn’t reach shore until evening. Staggering from the waves, he collapsed to let the sun soothe his wounds. When the chill of dusk raised gooseflesh on his skin, he rose and stared at Shera’s castle, a mile distant. Then, he stumbled up the beach, dragging the kraken’s giant tentacle behind him. . .