Secrets of Galathea Volume 1

by Elle Beaumont

  As Jager blinked rapidly, he realized that it was Kriegen that had caused the explosion. His dark blue hair covered half his face, but even at this distance, the grin was discernible.

  “What did you do?” he shouted.

  There was a blend of cries, some from the wounded crew and others that had swum to safety on the island. A collection of individuals lay sprawled out on the shore, barely moving aside from coughing up water.

  “You fool! You aided them!” Kriegen shouted at his brother and curled his fingers into his palm before he yanked his hand to the side. The water that held Taran spun around and yanked him deep below the surface before Jager released it.

  Soldiers began to rise to the surface, bone swords in grasp, and the coven surrounded the island too.

  “Now we have no choice but to act, Jager. They are on our land. They broke a promise, they’ve maimed you not once but twice, and they broke a treaty,” Kriegen stated and flicked back his hair. As he held out his hand, a black orb of water formed, and he tossed it up as if it were nothing more than a toy to play with.

  “No!” Oinone swam over to Jager and covered her mouth with a hand. “What have you been doing, Kriegen?” Her voice came out in a harsh whisper. It was now clear how much of Tenebris he had read—it poisoned him.

  His dark blue eyes flickered, and he cocked his head to the side. “Trying to protect our people,” he replied.

  The water had been still, that was until he slammed the black orb into the water; the orb plunged down and up came black waves. It spiraled; pieces of it branched out to look more akin to sticky kelp pods, but these were as dark as the abyss.

  “Don’t!” Jager cried and began to swim toward his brother.

  A hum filled the air, that of the Galathea coven. Despite the soldiers surrounding the immediate area, none had moved. They looked unsure of what to do; the humans were on the land and the one that had plunged beneath the surface was now in the custody of two mer soldiers.

  Oinone looked to her coven. She spoke not a single word, but they all seemed to know. This was no longer a fight against the humans; they had done what they came for. Instead, this would turn into a battle against one of their brethren.

  As Jager made it to his brother, his arms encircled Kriegen, and he pulled him down into the water, his tail driving them down as his brother fought against him. “Stop! This isn’t you, Kriegen!”

  “Yes! It is! They need to be stopped, they need to understand and perhaps if we take them out it will send a message to the humans.” A burst of water erupted between them and dislodged Jager from him.

  Stunned by the blow, Jager shook his head and glared. “You think that? It will cause a war between us and them. They will never cease seeking more because it is who they are! Greed runs deep in their veins!”

  Kriegen swam up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “And here is where it will begin and end. They killed our father; they’ve slaughtered our kind in the past. When did you become such a lover of the Uplanders? What have they ever done for you—or our kind? They will never stop, brother, ever. I will take care of you and I will take care of our people.” He sneered before continuing. “Even if the cost is great.”

  Batting away his hand, Jager felt slapped in the face. “I’m not and I never will be. I’m the first one to hold a grudge, but I refuse to make everyone pay for what a handful of people were responsible for.” Merfolk were not exempt from cruelties, either.

  The sound of water churning brought both of them to a halt, and they spun around to witness a wall of waves rushing toward them. Jager attempted to dart away but got caught in the undertow; it tossed him aside like a pebble.

  Kriegen became trapped inside of it—it was a net of water intended for him. He grunted as it encased him, trapped and unable to break free. He began to chant and his hair came to life around him. The blue faded into his hair and turned as black as Jager’s, and his voice resounded in the vicinity.

  Knocked against a coral reef, Jager felt at his head and saw red bleed into the clear water. He grimaced, shook it off and looked upward. His brother was held in a strong current that the coven created.

  He cursed to himself and pushed himself upward. “To the depths, Kriegen!” he shouted, but no one was around to hear him.

  Of all the things to do, turning to the Dark Arts? He shuddered and felt the warm water grow cold. For a moment he thought it was just his imagination, but it wasn’t.

  The water steadily plummeted in temperature, and as if that wasn’t alarming enough it was also darkening. Like the orb that had plunged into the sea, the water grew black.

  Kriegen wasn’t just weaving magic, he was siphoning it from the coven members; he knew this because he could see it. The black tentacle-like sinews of water reached out and wrapped around paralyzed members of the coven. Those that weren’t affected swam away to band together. Oinone was one of them.

  A deep laugh resonated in the water as Kriegen began to change before everyone. His hair grew, and elongated fingers stretched out in a horrific display of disfiguration; as he pulled the magic from the mer he was siphoning from, his skin blackened.

  “Kriegen, stop!” Jager filled with panic as he swam toward him, sending a blast of bubbles at his brother, but it was too late. Kriegen was lost, wrapped inside the mammoth of a creature that loomed before him.

  Springs beneath the basin burst and the floor began to crack with an eerie groan. Geysers of water shot up from the sea floor, bursting from the surface and raining down on the island. It would seem the sea was as displeased with the intrusion as the mer.

  The monster swam toward a geyser, let one of them shoot him upward. Thick tentacle-like cords of black shot toward the sky and twin waterspouts began to shift over the surface.

  Oinone swam up to Jager and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the black cloud that spread through the water. As it touched the surrounding soldiers, they began to shriek. The blackness speared into them and pulled their bodies into Kriegen. His mass seemed to grow, stretching taller, too. Where skin once was, black ink seemed to pool around his bones.

  “Get back, boy, he’ll devour you, too!” Oinone shouted, pulling him away. “Listen to me, there are survivors, but we have to go down and we have to move fast.”

  Jager didn’t argue; there was nothing that could be done for his brother now. For so long it had been only them and he felt as if he had failed his older brother. He felt pressure building up in his chest, and had it not been for the desperate need to protect the sea—even the humans—Jager would have easily succumbed to shock.

  “What must we do?” His voice sounded pitiful even to him. The pair swam to the surviving members of the coven and some soldiers.

  “We must bind him; there is still hope we can—”

  A collective gasp went up as Kriegen sent blackened waves toward the island. They didn’t crash on the land but rolled beneath it. The waves became tendrils—extensions of Kriegen’s many arms—and they reached for it like leeches and clung to the underside.

  “Jager! The Tonga Coven was on their way, I sent a conch. See if they have arrived below.”

  “I can stay here, send another—” he began to say.

  Oinone’s jaw muscles flexed, and she sent a chilly glare in his direction. “This is not a time to argue.”

  As much as Jager wanted to stay here and fight, he knew they needed additional help. Looking down, he saw the crevice that had formed when the geysers shot upward. “Are we to bind him down there?”

  Oinone didn’t follow his gaze, for she focused on the horror before them. “Yes, it is our only hope at this point.”

  He nodded grimly as he took up his former teacher’s hand. “I will return with aid,” he said sadly and offered a squeeze to her hand.

  She waved forth the rest of the coven and motioned for them to hold hands. “No matter what you do, don’t cease singing; do not stop. Close your eyes if you must, but once we begin we can’t stop. If you’d like to
leave now, I will not hold it against you.” She waited for a moment but when no one budged, she began to pull them into a tight circle.

  “May we all sing true. Muir, guide us, and have mercy on us all,” she offered and began to sing.

  Jager swam away.

  Tonga was the neighboring coven to Galathea. They were allies and in times of duress, they often lent their aid to the coven and kingdom. Their leader, Lowanna, was ancient, in that she was nearing the end of her days, which Jager assumed was near one thousand years of age. Still, her magic was strong and despite her advanced age, she showed no signs of slowing.

  She was also terrifying.

  As Jager swam down to the alabaster pillars of their meeting area, he saw the stark-white hair wavering in the water. The tell-tale coloring of Lowanna’s lower half and the ornamental headpiece she wore told him she was from the Tonga region. Her fin was black with stripes of a deep purple which twined with a soft hue of pink. She had dark skin, and a pair of intelligent black eyes stared at him.

  “Is it as bad as we think?” she rasped out.

  “Yes, darkness has taken one of our own.” He purposely left out the fact it was his brother. Lowanna likely knew the truth. She made Oinone’s probing gaze look like a krill’s game.

  The rest of her coven collected behind her. They were similar in appearance. Dark-skinned, but their hair was raven instead of white. Their faces held fluorescent markings on them; some were dots and other mer painted stripes. The differentiating markings depicted ranking within the coven, but Jager was clueless as to what dots versus stripes meant.

  Besides, now was not the time to ponder over paint.

  “May Muir keep him.” She brought her hand to her chest and moved it outward, frowning.

  Jager said nothing. He mimicked the movement and jerked his head toward the direction they had to swim.

  “How long have you known?” she asked him.

  Jager would have been taken aback had he not known of her talents; it wasn’t known far and wide that Lowanna could read thoughts but Oinone had let it slip a time or two in private.

  “Not long enough and too late,” he replied shortly.

  She nodded her head and propelled herself through the water with an easy grace. “It’s not your fault, boy. He swam in dangerous waters—too extreme in his thoughts. He’s not wrong, but the way he thought to handle it is.”

  A grunt escaped him and he said no more as they swam back to the Island.

  They were close enough to the surface that shafts of sunlight should have traveled through the water, yet it didn’t. The water was far too murky, painted black by Kriegen’s magic.

  Lowanna immediately swam past Jager and joined up with Oinone. The rest of her coven integrated with Galathea, joining hands and offering greetings.

  Jager turned his gaze toward the being that was once his brother.

  Whilst he was gone they had successfully trapped him. He writhed around in his bindings, snarling at them.

  The Tonga coven chimed in, but Jager could not be party to sealing his brother in a crevice. Memories of fonder times came unbidden, and he clenched his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth would snap.

  A burst of bubbles came from the deep before the coven lifted up in song. The notes became tangible and formed tendrils that looked much like a streak of lightning. Each strand entangled itself on the mass of writhing black and began to drag him through the water.

  Unlike most of the others, he did not close his eyes; he kept them open and watched everything. How the black limbs glued themselves to the bottom of the island, the sound of the eerie groan and hum the ocean took on.

  “You don’t understand. If it is the island they want, it will be the island they get—forever.” Frustrated, Kriegen desperately clawed at the water to drag himself away. “They will never stop! Please understand!”

  Jager turned away and held his head in his hands. His fingertips bit into his scalp as the groaning of the crevice echoed in the water. His brother began to shriek as the combined covens wove their magic and shoved Kriegen into the deep.

  Their magic bound him in place, subduing and trapping him there.

  A sob broke free from Jager as he lost the last piece of a family he had, but the sadness fled into anger and when he turned his darkened gaze to the surface, he swam toward the soldiers holding Taran.

  “You! This is your doing.” He hissed his words and scowled. “If it weren’t for you, this never would have come to be.”

  “Careful,” Taran spat. “I will unbind him in a heartbeat.” A laugh escaped Taran, but Jager wasn’t laughing.

  Blinded by his emotions, Jager quickly took the nearest soldier’s sword, and in a flash, the butt of it collided with the human’s skull. Immediately, the boy’s head hung forward. The mer cursed, catching Taran’s head so he didn’t drown.

  “I don’t think so.” He eyed the guards, expecting them to reprimand him, but then again, why would they? His gaze turned to the island. The other crew members that had leaped into the water to avoid burning up with the ship were finding out how big of a mistake this was.

  Although angry, Jager’s mouth fell open, and he watched as a swimming boy clawed at the water and tried to avoid the riptide that yanked him toward the shore.

  The boy near the shore cried. The same rip current that had taken the others was now sweeping him and yanking him toward the shoreline.

  “Help! Stop this!” he cried out.

  Jager dipped below the surface and plunged well beneath the island. There was nothing visible, but he could feel a steady thrum of magic pulsing from it. What in the depths?

  Reaching out with his magic, Jager examined the threads of magic that reached toward the island. Horror washed over him. Kriegen had cursed it? At once a throbbing began in his head, and the wrongness of the magic caused him to shy away.

  “What did you do?” He pushed himself backward and felt a hand on his shoulder. He jerked to the side and caught sight of Lowanna and Oinone. “He cursed it?”

  “What?” Lowanna cocked her head to the side and eyed the structure. “It should have disappeared when he was sent below.”

  “Well, it didn’t.”

  “Did you try—” Oinone began to say.

  “I tried reaching out to it and it repelled me, but you’re more than welcome to try,” Jager bit out.

  Both of them tried. And then the three of them tried.

  It was of no use. Nothing worked. Kriegen had trapped the humans on the island with his strange magic. Jager could almost hear his brother’s laughter. They wanted it so badly, now they have it. Now they won’t be able to leave.

  “We will have to wait it out. Perhaps with time and as his slumber becomes deeper, perhaps it’ll weaken and they will leave.” Oinone didn’t sound as if she believed herself, but who could blame her?

  Misery settled deep in Jager’s marrow, and he longed for more time. Time to warn his brother of what would happen, the time to laugh with him and perhaps change his mind. This week was for the gulls as if things couldn’t get any worse.

  He should never have thought such a thing.

  “Jager of Limnaia?” a voice he didn’t know called out.

  “Yes, that’s me,” he said as he spun around.

  “You’re under arrest for treason.”

  This had to be some joke. Treason? What in the deep blue had he done that was considered treason? He helped in gathering the covens to bind his flesh to a crevice below the sea. What more proof did they need he was not making a move against the crown or kingdom?

  No. Nothing would.

  “Are you joking?” he scoffed, but the stern expression on the soldier’s face said he was not.

  This was absurd, he had done nothing. Since he had done nothing he complied rather than put up a fuss. He knew they would haul him to Selith City. They were all the same there—full of pomp and circumstance and couldn’t take a joke. They also didn’t tolerate anyone swimming out of line.

>   The palace was a grand place, as it should be. The Uplanders would speak of heaven and what it must look like; Jager imagined it was something akin to the palace. It was a pearl white structure that stood proudly. Even at a distance it seemed large, let alone swimming so closely.

  As the carriage slowed to a halt, the guards prompted Jager to leave the confines and he grunted as they shoved him between his shoulder blades.

  They shackled his hands in front of him and from the middle chain, another section of links led to a leash the soldier held. Jager had never felt so animalistic than he did now.

  “Who is charging me?” he finally asked.

  No reply. He shook his head, black hair swirling around him as he had no choice but to follow.

  Inside they went, down several halls and inside another corridor and finally inside a room. The king sat in his high-back chair and stroked his hairless face, deep in thought.

  “The sea whispers secrets—not always ones that hold the truth, but it always talks. It says you knew of your brother’s dabblings; is this true?”

  How in the depths did he already know that? An accusatory look washed over Jager’s face as he spun his head and found none other than Lowanna.

  She spread her hands and bowed her head in apology.

  “You could have prevented all of this if you had spoken up.”

  Jager raised his hands, which had fisted. “I had just found out. I didn’t know previously. By the time I would have reached you and then back again it still would have been too late. None of us knew!”

  Oinone would have known better than anyone else and yet she hadn’t a clue either. If Jager hadn’t stumbled on the hidden compartment of the statue, he wouldn’t have known either.

  “I’ll excuse your disrespect this time. Do you have any idea how many lives were lost today?” This was the first time Eidir raised his voice.

  “Forgive me… but Your Majesty, you can’t blame me for all—” His voice cut out, and he dropped his gaze. He felt frantic inside, and felt as if a tidal wave were crushing him. “You do? You blame me?”