The Foreign Deep (In the Giant's Shadow), page 1
The Foreign Deep
Copyright ©2025 Pete A O’Donnell
Cover image by Miblart
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novella is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
First Printing, 2025
ISBN: 978-1-7349090-1-2
Ill-Advised Stories
PO Box 6072 Warwick, RI 02887 www.illadvisedstories.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Foreign Deep (In the Giant's Shadow)
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
Epilogue
The Foreign Deep is a standalone story that takes place after the events of Book 1 The Stars Beyond the Mesa and before the events of Book 2 The Ocean Beyond.
Click here to download a free copy of book One The Star Beyond the Mesa
Also By
The Curse of Purgatory Cove
In the Giants Shadow
Book 1: The Stars Beyond the Mesa
Book 3The Voice of Stones
Book 4 The Calling of Ghosts
And for younger readers:
The Merlin’s Visit the Fire Station
CHAPTER 1
Near the palace’s heart, Jayse heard distant waves as his footsteps echoed off the hallway's vaulted ceilings. Below him, through arched openings, grand chambers and tropical gardens soaked in the light of distant suns, while in the azure sky, the silhouette of the star blossom, an elevator to space, was a black spot tied to the surface of the ocean world, Grannus. Jayse touched the closest banister, not feeling the heat cast off from the white masonry. The walls and ornate columns of the royal citadel were made from coral, grown and harvested on the seabed, and polished into building material. He took little comfort from living in luxury. His father-in-law made certain of that.
Voices came from further ahead, from the high chief’s council chamber, in a suite of rooms set aside for the ruler and his family. Advisers laughed, a deep rolling sound of camaraderie. They slapped each other on their backs, satisfied with whatever had been decided inside. As Jayse appeared at the corner, the men glanced behind and stopped talking like he was the joke.
The old men were in their grandest clothing, bejeweled but showing their aged bodies. The climate of the capital city, Anchor Home, didn’t allow for heavy apparel. Even formal wear had the look of beach clothing. It was all sashes and breechcloths, occasionally shortened trousers, showing the bellies and wrinkles of the nobles. Though he was young and fit, if a bit thin, Jayse didn’t care for the fashion. He’d been a soldier once and a man from the north, where people were more modest.
His father-in-law wasn’t in the hall with the others. The high chief was still inside his chamber. Jayse barely greeted the councilors as he pushed through, making his way to the heavy doors and going in. They were open just enough to allow a single person to pass.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The council chamber was one of the few spaces in the palace that wasn’t filled with natural light. A small skylight high above, and glowing lamps along the walls, gave the only illumination. It was a room meant to be sealed, to hold state secrets. That’s why he was surprised to see a man from a foreign power inside, a royal envoy of the Tamerlane dynasty that ruled the world of Uppsala.
Most of the people on Grannus, Jayse included, showed an Asian ancestry, with epicanthal folds shaping their eyes. The man from Uppsala had Asian heritage as well, but his features were from the lands that once bordered Africa and Europe— the dark hair and pale brown skin of India. They were places lost to time, while the traits remained on worlds circling stars far from the Sol system.
Jayse’s eyes went from the envoy to the high chief as he demanded, “My Liege, what is the meaning of this?” Immediately, he wished he hadn’t blurted it out. He wanted to show that he was angry while still maintaining some degree of respect. In truth, he didn’t want to do this at all, but he heard his wife’s voice, telling him he’d taken too much, that her father had put him at arm’s length long enough. Since the high chief took a new bride, her insistence had grown.
High Chief Augustine leaned over the massive table in the center of the room and the pile of reports stacked on it. “The meaning of what exactly?” His bushy eyebrows curled down as his eyes came alight.
“I’m sorry,” Jayse stammered, lowering his head and bowing, giving the chief his due respect. He pointed to the man from Uppsala. “You invited a foreigner into council while I was left out. That’s what I’d like an explanation for.”
The envoy stood next to Ascari, the king’s war leader. Years ago, when Jayse served his time in the Grannus defense force, Ascari had been a distant name, head of the entire military. It was strange to be in the same room with him. Jayse had been a chief’s son then, but his father’s domain in the north had meant little to anyone in Anchor Home. Jayse served among the commoners. ‘If you were to lead, you had to serve your time,’ his father always said. That was long before his marriage to the high chief’s daughter, his only heir.
Pulling a sheet of paper from beneath his sash, Jayse dropped it on the table and said, “I read the intel report. Hundreds of ships are falling toward us, coming down the well from Uppsala. It’s an armada.”
The high chief stood to his full height, crossing his arms. Despite his years, he was still fit, reminding Jayse of the pilings on a dock, tall, stiff, and unbreakable. “Emperor Tamerlane has sent an envoy to allay our fears. To assure us that his fleet is not moving on Grannus,” Augustine said.
The envoy put his hand out to Jayse. “I’m Lord Beleeze. We met at your wedding. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t remember me. That was a well-attended ceremony.”
“And expensive,” the high chief said with little humor.
Going to the table and picking the report up, Ascari said to Jayse, “You’re missing the top page. The one marked secret. How did you get this?”
Jayse held his back stiff. “It doesn’t matter. In a day, everyone will know. An amateur with a telescope will see their engine flares. While you’re having your secret meetings, people will be in a panic.”
The high chief ignored him and said to Ascari, “I’m sure it was my daughter. She keeps her ears open.” The chief turned to the man from Uppsala. “Would you care to answer the prince?”
The envoy held his hands open. “Of course.” He turned to Jayse. “My emperor means your world no harm. He is going to the ring, to the squatters there. Those pirates and scum have been allowed a lawless life for too long. I’m sure you've heard of them attacking our shipping. We’ve lost transports, as have you. Anyone who drops too close to Altor risks being raided. It can’t be allowed to go on. We’re trying to keep this expedition quiet to avoid warning them.”
Both Uppsala and Grannus circled a massive gas giant called Altor. There were three other worlds: Tarnish, Einherjar, and Oighear. Uppsala was the crown jewel of all those moons, more capable of supporting human life than the others, making it the most formidable in the system. Grannus was better suited for people with gills as most of its surface was covered in water.
Jayse thought of the ring, the broken collection of rocks that circled above Altor, the very edge of human civilization. Grannus was not a world rich in metals. Over the years, they’d traded with the colonies there. When ships went missing, it was easy to blame the strange people whose bodies had been changed by low gravity in the ring, living in small clans alongside Long-Wolfs. Perhaps they were lawless, as the man from Uppsala said, but not all of them were criminals. Most were like any other people, wanting to live in peace.
Watching Ascari, Jayse tried to read his face, wondering if he believed this explanation. Recently, the military commander questioned the pirate attack's authenticity, warning that it could be aggression by the nobles of Uppsala. Ascari remained unreadable, staring back as he folded Jayse’s paper and tucked it away.
Stepping past the envoy, Jayse closed in on the high chief. “An entire armada will pass in striking distance of our home, and you feel no urge to say anything to your people? If you want to take this man’s word, fine, but we should still prepare our citizens, and we should warn the True Grannusians.” Jayse’s hands opened, pointing down.
A noise, possibly a laugh, escaped the Envoy, though it sounded cruel and was hidden by a quick throat clearing.
Jayse watched the high chief's lip pull up in a sneer at the term, ‘True Grannusian,’ before saying, “There is nothing for our neighbors to fear. Besides, t
hey keep their secrets and see more than you know.”
Jayse pointed to the envoy. “Even if they aren’t coming here. This attack will weaken us. We trade with the people in the Belt. We build ships with their metal─”
“Enough!” the high chief shouted. “This has all been discussed. If I’d wanted your opinion, I would’ve called you here.”
Jayse felt his face turn red. “Very well. I’m glad that I know now. I’m glad you’ve been clear on how you see me.” He started toward the door, regretting how pouty he sounded.
The high chief ran his hand down either side of his mustache and called, “Wait!” in a tone that wasn’t to be ignored. As Jayse came to a stop, the chief pointed to the exit and told Ascari and Beleeze, “Give us the room.” He came around the table and followed them to the door. As they left, he closed it behind them and turned around to face his son-in-law.
Jayse had expected anger, but the high chief kept his voice low. “You think I’m foolish, don’t you?”
“No, of course not,” Jayse stammered as the man closed the distance between them. The room suddenly felt tight.
Reaching out and taking his shoulders, Augustine came in close. His hands were like iron on his arms. “Good, because I’m not. I don’t suffer them either. You are my daughter’s husband. I chose you, Jayse. I, and I alone, brought you from that cold hunk of ice you call home. Not because I needed another advisor, but because I needed an alliance with your father.” He pushed Jayse back against the table, “If I decide to include you in a meeting, then by all means, show up. If I don’t, stay the hell away, boy.”
Jayse broke his grip and pushed his arms away, but he was off-balance with a chair behind his legs. The chief gave a single shove, just enough that he fell over, stumbling on the chairs.
Standing over him and looking down, the high chief scoffed. “All you’ve succeeded in doing today is making yourself look weak, and through you, my rule.” He stepped back, wringing his hands, wiping them down his royal sash. “I know this wasn’t your idea, that my daughter put you up to it, so I will forgive this transgression, but I warn you, do not test my patience again. I will be less forgiving next time.” The high chief left the room as Jayse pulled himself to his feet.
He grabbed the back of one of the seats and picked it up, ready to throw it, but all he did was squeeze the sides, looking at the exit and his father-in-law's back.
CHAPTER 2
An agonizing amount of time passed in the council chamber as Jayse waited, hoping the hallway would be empty when he left. He didn’t want to see any of those fat councilors. The old men, he was sure, knew exactly what had happened between him and the high chief. In the world of politics, the experienced were worse than the young with their talk and gossip, enthralled by tales of weakness, always looking for someone to keep low. It was the only way to make certain that they didn’t become the next whipping boy.
Jayse opened the door slowly, hating himself a bit as he did. He’d made his move, tried to assert himself after years of being ignored and ended up on the floor for it. The corridor was empty. Sneaking out like a thief, he made his way back to his own suite, where he knew his wife would be waiting to hear how it went.
Daoine had told him to stand up for himself, to call her father out. The high chief was covering up the movement of the Tamerlane fleet. She’d assured him it was a dire threat that couldn’t be ignored. even going as far as to invoke the safety of their children, their two-year-old son, and the one that wasn’t born yet. He had to do it for their future.
Jayse shook his head, imagining facing her, telling her what happened. His steps slowed. On a back staircase, he struggled to move his feet. He looked out at the vast ocean and wished he could sail away from this place, back to the north. He missed the simplicity of life before all this. He missed his days as a soldier, when the right thing to do was what his officer told him to.
Jayse slammed his hand against the banister and took a deep breath, continuing on his way. Passing guards, he entered their suite on the first floor and found the elegant rooms empty. Out the back was their corner of the garden. He heard voices. His son’s was young and squeaky, filled with laughter. A man’s voice was there as well. Jayse paused at the door, trying to imagine who it could be. It sounded familiar. When he recognized the timber and laughter of an old friend, a smile nearly broke out, but he shook it away, still thinking of the high chief and his embarrassment. His closest friend wasn’t the welcome sight he should’ve been after all these months. Selfish as it was, Jayse would rather be alone.
Coming to the opening, he saw Cathal. He didn’t wear his uniform but dressed in simple island clothing that did nothing to hide his muscular physique. His shorts and sash were disheveled as he ran, flying in figure eights with Jayse’s son, Cormack, on his back. He circled the small grassy lawn with his elbows out wide, like wings, as he gripped the giggling boy’s feet.
He was playing the part of a sea dragon as he told the boy a story. Squatting down, coming in for a landing, he said with vigor, “And then the dragons would race up from the bottom of the ocean! They’d go fast as lightning while their Naiad riders held on!” Cathal leapt into the air with Cormack still on his back, yelling, “Breaching the surface, they’d tear the ships apart, sending their hunters to the bottom!” The boy laughed, still holding on as the soldier came down, landing on all fours.
Princess Daoine sat on a bench in front of brightly colored flowers, watching her son as she explained, “Don’t forget, the men hunting them were our ancestors. Yours and mine, Cathal. You make us sound dreadful.”
With her pregnancy well underway, the princess glowed. Her belly had pushed out early with this second child. Sitting or standing, she constantly touched its round surface. It’d be another season before the child was born, but already, she’d felt it kicking.
As stern as Daoine’s father’s features were, the same angles made for a refined beauty in his daughter, softened with the life growing in her. Jayse knew that in anger, she could still turn back to sharpness, darkening with an imperialist edge. Seeing her demure smile, watching Cathal, Jayse wondered how fast it would vanish when he told her how the meeting had gone.
Cathal said to the princess, “Yes, we were victors. We wrote the history, but reading between the lines, I’m not sure we come off so well.”
Daoine shook her head and turned her eyes to Jayse as he hid a sour expression behind a forced smile. He said, “Not every noble house hunted the Naiads. Some defended them. Some were their allies.”
“Did our family?” Cormack asked, still mounted on Cathal.
“Not mine.” Jayse pointed to his chest. “Northerners stayed out of it altogether, like we do with most things.”
“And Mommy’s?” Cormack asked, pointing at her.
She laughed. “We’re Sidhe. At one time or another, we fought everyone,” she said, lunging forward and grabbing the child.
“Careful,” Jayse said, watching his wife sweep the laughing boy up in her arms.
Cathal collapsed into the grass. “He’s getting heavy. I think he broke my back.”
Jayse came over and gave his friend a kick in the behind while the princess put her son back on the ground. The boy ran to Cathal with genuine concern on his face. “Don’t kick him, Daddy.”
Cathal rolled over onto his back, snatching Cormack into the air, holding him with his feet dangling. “You could never break me, young prince. I’m made of iron and steel.” He let Cormack go as Jayse offered him a hand up from the ground. Cathal was much shorter. He barely reached Jayse’s chin, but his neck was thick, and his shoulders were wide, and the muscles of his arms flexed with every movement.
“What brings you here?” Jayse asked, still holding his friend’s hand as he gave him a hug. They hadn’t seen each other in months as Cathal had been away, assigned to sub duty. While Jayse had stepped away from the military, Cathal had gone on, joining a special unit of divers, an all-purpose response team.
“I’m on leave for a few days. Not enough time to go home, so I thought I’d see how things are here. See if my friend had any interest in draining a pint or two in town.” Cathal turned to the queen and gave an elaborate bow. “My lady, can Jayse come out and play?”
