In the eye o' the storm, peace you may find 'fore the jaws of Kione.

*****

Firmin grabbed onto Rupert as a starboard wave crashed into the side of the flimsy boat; casting them aside like children in the path of a charging Carlsyle bull.

The little vessel charged on through the storm,  bringing them ever closer to their destination. "Are you okay?" Firmin roared to Rupert as the ocean spray devoured and regurgitated the boat relentlessly.

"Firmin!" Rupert howled back at the Knight. "If we dinnae make it... promise ye'll visit my wife in Bràigh Mhàrr."

"Nonsense. Neither of us will be dying tonight," said Firmin, gripping Rupert tightly.

"Tell her a' did it fer Duncan's child." They both cowered as a crack of splintering wood pierced their ears despite the constant roar of the storm.

Firmin clambered to the front of the boat as it lurched forward into the gulley of a wave, like it was falling off the face of the earth itself. It was too dark to tell, but he frantically searched for any holes in the hull. To his relief, his fingers found no such breach.

I don't want to die! The voice within him reverberated though every fiber of his being. I have a purpose. A reason to live. I will not perish this night. Firmin fully embraced that what he longed to be wasn't a hero; nor was it to be adorned by the masses. He wanted her. He wanted Finn to live a full and happy life. He clenched his teeth as he reached for the rope, yanking it to assure the selkie was still in control.

A spout of water hissed from the bow, as a smooth sillouhette emerged from the ragged sea and clung to the boat. "Fit de ye want?" Spat Gartoch.

"Nothing," shouted Firmin back towards the twitching whiskers and obsidian eyes that pierced angrily in his direction. "I wanted to check you were still with us!"

Suddenly, the boat grumbled as though shook from below by an almighty tremor. "No...it can't be." Gartoch flipped backwards off the bow, diving deep into the watery darkness.

The wind continued to rage, but the waves relented slightly, allowing Firmin and Rupert to gain their footing; peering over the boat to where Gartoch had disappeared. A sudden jolt knocked them off their feet and a shadowy lump broke free from the water, thumping onto the cramped deck. Gartoch slithered from his blubbery skin; coughing sea water as he emerged a man, leaving his seal skin behind on the deck. He crawled into the corner of the boat, clutching his knees up to his chest.

Firmin clambered over to him, avoiding the fishy cloak that shrouded Gartoch moments ago. He grabbed onto his shoulder, recoiling as he felt the selkies uncontrollable shaking.

"Th...Th..."

"Spit it out man!" Firmin grabbed him with with both hands this time.

"Th... The black beast... Kione."

"Kione!" Shouted Rupert, slipping over the seal skin in panic. "What the hell is that beastie doing here?

A rythimic drumming reverberated from the depths, rippling the waves and calming the storm. Silence. For the first time in what felt like hours, Firmin heard the quiet ringing in his ears and the gentle sloshing of the water against the hull of the boat.

"Get ready." He took a wide stance to steady himself and drew his sword high into the air. Looking over his shoulder, he nodded at Rupert who was hunched over, gripping onto his sword tightly with both hands.

What the hell is Kione, and why is Gartoch so afraid? Another seal perhaps? An orca? They are the natural predators of the grey seals after all.

Firmin looked past his dulled blade to Gartoch who had seemed to crumble from fearsome to fearful in a matter of moments. The droning from ealier picked up again, causing Gartoch to slowly turn and peer over the edge.

Suddenly the water exploded upwards, like lava from an errupting volcano. An enormous ophidian head burst forth, snapping its jaws around Gartoch; ejecting him out of the boat and into the murky sky. Firmin and rupert were sent backwards with the force of the beast's leap, watching Gartoch's limp body ragdoll between clenched fangs as Kione emerged from the deep, the height of a castle spire. Firmin cursed under his breath as he caught a glimpse of the spiked horns that protruded from the beast's enormous head and it's yellow slit eyes that followed him as it rose into the night sky. It's black eel-like body writhed visciouslly in the air as though it could fly, however, it soon came hurtling back towards the boat.

"Brace yersel!" Rupert dived on top of Firmin as Kione smashed into the water, immediately consuming the small boat in its omnipotent wake. Firmin felt the sharp stab of the fridgid North Sea as it dragged him head over heels into its murderous depths; he spun and spun, sinking deeper as he watched yellow eyes draw nearer. He felt a sharp bite in his side as he held out an outstreched hand and faded into unconscoiusness. I will protect you Finn. I will save you Barabel.

*****

A warm hand cupped his face. Firmin opened his eyes to find her. A smile grew outwards from her gentle face, reaching his hardened heart and breathing life into it once more.

"I've missed you," he said with a tired, raspy voice.

She leaned forwards and delicately kissed his forehead, lingering before moving her lips slowly towards his ear. "Don't keep me waiting...a chuisle."

Her warmth was replaced with the chill of reality, and her soft touch with the coarse grittiness of the sand. He awoke in agony, grabbing his side as he turned over and vomited a salty liquid; the sea tasted as horrible as it looked inviting. Wiping the encrusted sand from his face, Firmin came to his senses, nursing his aching head as he became aware of the choking calls of the gulls above.

"Ru... Rupert?" He scanned the length of the beach, squinting to see in the pale light of the early morning. Nothing. He frantically rolled over to search the other side. Nothing. Except. No, it can't be. A brown lump resembling the selkie lay motionless in the distance. I saw Gartoch die. I saw that beast rip his head off. He clambered to his feet, staggering towards the seal.

He stood over the body at the edge of the water, blood stained the sand a himilayan crimson below its plump, speckled belly. Firmin gently kicked the seal to see if he was alive.

"Oi," said a faint voice. "That's nea how you treat a pal is it hoho?"

"Rupert, is that you?" Confusion spread over Firmin's face, crumpling it quicker than any dissatisfaction could.

"Ye've nea looked at me like that since the first time ye met me. Give me a hand would ye?" Rupert extended a flipper, his eyes widening as he noticed his lack of fingers. "Aaahh! Fit has happened ti me?" He shook his flipper as though trying to remove goosegrass from his fur.

Firmin chuckled as he watched Rupert shuffle haphazardly in the wet sand. "Get away from the water would you?"

Using his flippers, he propped himself up and waddled up the slight incline to the dry sand. Firmin watched as he began to see the smooth fur wrinkle, then loosten; becoming like a cape, many sizes too large. Rupert crawled out from underneath, coughing up the same colour of sea water that Firmin had the displeasure of tasting.

"What happened?" Said Firmin, helping Rupert to his feet.

"Honeslty... I've nea idea." Rupert replied, running his hand through his crusted, salty beard. "Last thing I remember was seein' Gartoch turn into fish food, then..." His gaze wandered to the ocean, then slowly back to the seal skin he had just emerged from.  "Hohoho, I'm a clever bastard I tell ye! I must o' hopped in that fur before we went overboard... guess ye owe me another one pal!"

"I guess so," said Firmin. "Best be on our way."

"Aye." Rupert stood up straight, dusted himself off and followed Firmin off the beach and up towards Cas Chaolais. A solid days ride stood between them and Cessford Castle.

*****

Athelstan sat on Duncan's throne. Light shone through the remaining shards of glass that hung precariously in the window panes; not much was left from the battle that had taken place in Dunalastair Castle. The ruby tinted light caught the edges of Athesltan's crown, complementing the hot rage that was building up inside him.  The three wolves heads still perched ominously above, watching as an armour clad Knight strode up the stained carpet towards the throne.

"Your majesty... I bring news of the Knight Commander." Godwin bowed humbly before his King.

"It better be news of his retreival," snapped Athelstan.

"Eh, not quite, my King." The quiver in Godwin's voice sounded more prominant.

"Then why have you come to bother me?" His eyes squinted as though he was aiming a loaded bow in Godwin's direction.

"The Kerr wolves have tracked Firmin as far as Inbhir Cheitinn, but the child's scent seemed to have stopped at Scone."

"So, he is heading south over the water eh." What is he planning? Has he truly betrayed me? "Godwin, send word to my useless son, Edward. He should be at Cessford Castle by now, tell him to advance North to try and cut him off. The Kerr's will continue South till they have their pray. Firmin better hope my Son finds him first... I doubt Kerr will give him the chance to explain himself."

"Yes, my Leige." Godwin clenched a fist to his chest, bowing once more and turning to leave the great hall.

"Oh and Godwin... Next time I see you, I will have either the head of Duncan's child or your head. The choice is yours."