Secrets of Galathea Volume 1

by Elle Beaumont

  “Then what are we supposed to do?” Loch pinned Jager with a dark look. “Just die?”

  Jager’s face contorted with a scowl. “Use the tools that you have.” He thumbed in the direction of Zinnia. “You have someone who can siphon magic—use her—and you better do it quickly. My brother is not going to allow himself to be bound a third time.”

  There was no time to argue, and yet Loch panicked. His knowledge of magic was limited, but even he knew the dangers of siphoning from something as wicked as the Kraken. “Isn’t that… dangerous? Couldn’t she turn… into that thing too?”

  “No,” Zinnia said. “I mean, it’s possible, but after reading several tomes… Kriegen practiced dark magic. I never have and I’m full of light; he on the other hand is not. If I can pull it from him—”

  “He could still live once stripped of it.” Jager’s eyes screwed shut as he spoke.

  Loch sneered. “It wouldn’t be much of a life for him.”

  “That is my brother, watch it, Your Highness.”

  “Enough!” Zinnia snapped, and pointed toward the distance. “The other covens are on their way. Your bickering can come later if we’re still alive for that. Ruari—hold him as much as you can. Jager,” she said, nodding toward the shadowed figures beyond. “Come, brothers and sisters.” Zinnia regarded the members of the coven and swam away.

  Loch swam beside Ruari, not daring to interrupt him, but he wondered if they could manage this at all. Beyond the immediate throng of soldiers, he saw Adrastia shouting orders—at this point all they were was a distraction for the monster and nothing more. Ruari’s magic was strong, but he wouldn’t be able to hold the barrier against the likes of Kriegen.

  A line of witches writhed in the water, their magic bleeding into it to combat the spells the Kraken cast. Ruari was in the center of it, aiding in deflecting the beast’s advances.

  “What can we do?” An older mermaid swam up to Loch, fidgeting with her hands. “We are witches from the village. What can we do?”

  “Help him maintain the barrier,” Loch said and motioned to Ruari.

  She nodded, swimming off to clasp Ruari’s quaking hand. She belted out a soprano note, strengthening the barrier.

  He would be of no use to the witches, so Loch swam to fight alongside of Adrastia. Her tail caressed his for a brief moment, reassuring him that she was all right.

  An eruption occurred, shaking the sea floor. The wall Ruari and his team created had been shattered already and the Kraken’s ink spilled into the water, choking those in the immediate area. They thrashed in the water as if they were stuck inside of a brine pool—paralyzed and poisoned.

  “Great Muir!” Loch swore and ordered the army to fall back. They rushed backward. Some were too late and were consumed in the toxic ink, writhing like their brethren.

  How long was it going to take for them to begin siphoning this beast’s magic? They needed to act now or they were all dead. Gritting his teeth, Loch swept an arm out to hold his men back.

  The Kraken homed in on the group of witches, his plated scalp bowing as he took in their smaller figures. A grating laugh escaped him as he slithered forward and reached out to touch them, except his body jolted back in shock.

  Clearly angered and confused, the Kraken lashed out with an orb of blackness. It struck part of the formation of witches and audible cracks resounded in the water as mer lay lifeless on the seafloor.

  Loch’s hand gripped on to Adrastia’s bicep, yanking her back from the tainted water. Horror warped his features, and he wondered, not for the first time, if today would be the day they died. There was no time to do anything other than scream, cry and move together once more. They needed to focus. They needed to remain as a unit. If they were to die, then they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  Zinnia, along with the Galathea coven, started to siphon, pulling the strength from the witches around her, and leaching into the Kraken. Like the monster’s black tendrils, Zinnia’s siphoning was visible. Bright blue ribbons snaked through the water, extending like fingers to explore the wicked water before it.

  “Don’t you dare!” the Kraken hissed. “I know what you are!” Angrily, he began to race toward Zinnia, his warped hands and tentacles causing the floor to quake. “I will end you, all of you. Your blood will stain these waters for a long, long time.” Tentacles reached out, grabbing casting witches and constricting them with his appendages. Blood clouded the water and edged its way toward the clouds of ink.

  Loch was close enough to intervene. He quickly hopped astride a hippocampus and whistled shrilly to it. The powerful beast tore through the water and with sword in hand Loch approached the Kraken; it would scarcely penetrate his hide given the prior attempt, but he could at least try something.

  Just as Loch was preparing to attack, his body lurched to the side and he was shoved from the stallion. Moments later the deafening, bloody shriek of the hippocampus filled the current, his blood staining the water.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” panted Adrastia, scowling at him.

  “We are running out of options,” he stated, grabbing her hand and yanking her to the side. A limb from the Kraken lashed out where they had been. “Idiocy seems like the only option.” It wasn’t meant to be a joke but Adrastia laughed—which seemed peculiar at a time like this.

  “Loch!” Ruari cried out. “Swim to Zinnia!”

  There was no more time for chuckling. Loch launched himself through the water once more, sword held close to his muscled tail. The water passed over his scaled armor with ease and just as the Kraken was readying to lob an orb of blackness at Zinnia, visible specks of ink began to pull away from the monster.

  “She’s doing it,” Loch murmured as he pushed the water with his tail. The bubbles he created interfered with the trajectory of the orb.

  Zinnia’s energy warred with the Kraken’s, and as she began to absorb his magic it was visible, the slivers of black pulling away from him like skin being ripped away.

  The monster’s shriek rang out—he was furious but in pain, too, as black flesh began to peel away. He started to shrink, or more accurately, fold in on himself; the hulking figure seemed less threatening.

  Loch took a chance and darted toward one of the massive tentacles, swinging his sword so that it came down on one. Instead of banging off of the rock-like skin, it tore through. Blood dispersed in the water as the creature writhed.

  Zinnia’s nose began to bleed as she continued to drain the black magic from the creature. She coughed but held the spell’s strength.

  The soldiers pressed on, having seen the Kraken was now vulnerable, their swords piercing the limbs and severing them. A cry rang out from the nearby mer as an orb of blackness began to circulate around Zinnia.

  What in the depths was that? Loch watched in horror.

  Beside her Jager formed sigils in the water, casting light into the blackness. It warred with itself and began to dissipate. The monster spun around trying to defend himself from the onslaught of attacks, but the army didn’t cease its attacks and instead moved in to assault from various directions.

  “Get ready!” Jager bellowed, his face lined with tension.

  Loch could see Zinnia beginning to lose the fight. “Can’t you do it now?” he cried out and sliced his sword through the water to sever a limb that came toward him.

  “Now!” Jager instructed Zinnia. Her siphon ceased and it was Jager who sent the orb careening toward the writhing beast.

  When the orb collided nothing happened at first, but as the spell exploded against the monster a horrific noise rang out. Blackness exploded and then dissipated as if nothing had ever happened.

  Ink filled the water, making it difficult to see through. To Loch’s horror, he noted there was a considerable amount of blood where he could see. Dead mer floated in the water, and grievously wounded ones moaned as their brethren aided them.

  There was one positive of the situation—there was no beast looming above them, and no wicked laugh cutti
ng through them. No, instead, on the sea floor was the writhing figure of a merman that had been lost long ago.

  Kriegen.

  Loch held his hand up and shouted. “Hold your weapons! Be on alert.”

  It was Jager who swam up to Kriegen first, his twitching form a pitiful sight.

  “Great Muir, it worked,” whispered Jager.

  Loch did not trust the vulnerable figure, but he swam forward nonetheless, his face marred by a scowl. “So, it is true. After centuries, you begin to think some things were made up.”

  “Of course it’s true,” Jager snapped and moved a hand toward his brother’s face.

  It was not lost on Loch how amidst the battle Jager remained unscathed—somewhere in the depths of that monster, Kriegen remembered his brother. He didn’t envy Jager, and although Loch was no admirer of his, in that moment he ached for him.

  Brilliant blue eyes fluttered open. “Jager,” Kriegen murmured and curled in on himself. “Is it done?”

  “Is what done?”

  “My life.”

  Loch could have opened his mouth and said it was long since over, for he would pay for his crimes in the worst way. He had murdered the king, killed countless innocent mer, and for what? Kriegens’s extreme way of thinking had done this.

  “Can you give us a moment?” Jager motioned everyone away.

  Grimacing, Loch nodded his head and swam a distance away. He did not, however, let his guard down. He was not fool enough to believe Kriegen was harmless.

  Adrastia swam up to Loch and she puffed a breath out, creating a flurry of bubbles. “The witches can bind his magic in this state. He’ll be relatively harmless.”

  “Relatively,” he murmured and turned to her. Just as he was readying to say something to her a flurry of movement caught his eye.

  Jager had procured a bone knife. He bowed his head and whispered something to his brother before he raised it and hesitated but for a moment.

  “No!” Loch found himself shouting, but it was too late as the weapon came crashing down, penetrating tender flesh and piercing Kriegen’s vital organ. Blood oozed into the water, and the chaos that had once erupted through the water was now terribly silent.

  Jager didn’t so much as glance over his shoulder toward Loch. His fingers slid his brother’s eyelids closed and he shook his head. “It is done, Kriegen.”

  Red colored Loch’s cheeks. He was enraged that Jager would do such a thing. But wouldn’t he have done the same for his brother?

  “It is better this way, Your Highness,” Adrastia said softly. “There is no fear of him rising again; we can put this behind us now.”

  “Can we?” he snapped, lifting his hand to smooth his brow.

  “Yes, we can, because that is our only option. Unless you prefer to keep reliving this for centuries,” she ground out, unperturbed that he snapped at her.

  Turning back to face Jager, Loch stiffened as the other mer began to lift the lifeless body from the seafloor. “Just where are you bringing that body?”

  “To be properly disposed of,” Jager retorted.

  “His body will not taint our lagoon. I forbid it.”

  Jager froze and he turned to face Loch. “Very well, but I am not about to let his body be picked apart by scavengers.” With that he swam away with Kriegen in his grasp.

  “Loch,” Adrastia said his name lowly. “You would have done the same for Ruari. No matter Kriegen’s transgressions, they were still brothers.”

  It was too soon for him to admit he could relate to either one. Perhaps he never would admit to it.

  Calming those who mourned, and those who were hysterical, had fallen to Loch. Any of the soldiers that had been hurt had been turned over to the care of the covens.

  The current strengthened and had done well to sweep the bloodstained water from the area as well as any lingering clouds of ink. Loch expelled a ragged breath of air, sending a stream of bubbles through the water. His blood oozed from the wound the Kraken had inflicted on him; his muscles screamed at him.

  “Are you okay?” Adrastia asked.

  “You’re bleeding.” Ruari swam up to him and quickly began to inspect the wound.

  “Zinnia—how is she?” Loch dismissed the worry in his brother’s gaze and brushed off his groping hands. “Ruari, where is Zinnia?”

  Swiping Loch’s hands away, Ruari fussed at the armor which had been sliced as though it was a sliver of kelp. “She’s well enough. I mended her and left her in the care of others. Great Muir, Loch, you need to be tended to! This gash is deep.”

  A hiss escaped Loch as his brother poked and prodded the tender area. Scowling, he shoved his hands away for the third time. “Enough. When we return to the palace I will be tended to.”

  Ruari shot Adrastia a look and she scoffed.

  “I will pin you to the seafloor myself if you don’t let your brother tend to your wound now.” She motioned with her trident and lifted a pale blonde eyebrow.

  “Great Muir, I’m wounded but not an invalid.”

  “Not yet,” Adrastia murmured.

  Exasperated, Loch rolled his eyes and gave in to the examination. To his credit, he did not so much as grunt as the flesh was magically sewn back together. It hurt as much as when it had been pulled apart. A scar took the place of the gaping wound; it ran from his collarbone down to the opposite side of his ribs. No magic would take away the sore muscle or the sting of where flesh had once been vulnerable to the salt water. He endured it, largely because it seemed to soothe Ruari more than anything.

  Once it was finished, he took in the ragged appearance of his brother, leaned forward and embraced him. They could have perished that day—at least one of them—but here they were, whole and able to bicker once more.

  “Don’t ever do that again.” Ruari clasped onto the side of his brother’s face and leaned his forehead against his. “No matter our differences, you are still my brother.”

  “And I yours, Ruari. Go to Zinnia, she needs you.” He inclined his head, his chest constricting partly from the mending and also from the flood of emotions that had built up with his adrenaline.

  “Let’s get you home, Your Majesty.” Adrastia slid her arm around his waist and tugged on him.

  “In a moment,” he murmured and leaned down. Loch threw caution aside and bent down so that his lips pressed against Adrastia’s. He kissed her softly at first, and then his hands moved toward her hips to pull her flush against him, or as much as their armor would allow.

  The bold mermaid took the cue and parted her lips, exploring him as much as he was exploring her. She groaned softly into his mouth and pulled back a fraction. “We have a wedding to plan.”

  “And so we do.”

  In the following weeks, Loch and Adrastia planned their union. Before they could wed, there was one task that had to be addressed—Loch’s coronation. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t nervous.

  Ruari’s laughed as he swam up to Loch with his head tilted to the side. “Is anyone alive in there? I asked if you were ready for the ceremony. Judging by your appearance I’d say not. Loch, you’re more than prepared for this. Whatever doubts you may have, you’ll be a fine king.”

  A kingdom didn’t deserve a fine king, it deserved a phenomenal king as their father had been. Sighing, Loch’s fingers fanned against his desk. “Thank you, Ruari. I wonder if Father felt the same before his coronation?”

  Ruari smiled at him. His typically wild hair was braided neatly and pinned in place so it didn’t float freely. “I imagine doubts are at the forefront of every future king or queen’s mind. It’s easy enough for me to say, but you are still a mer first and foremost. You are not some unreachable individual and therefore you will be prone to doubts, Loch. You’ll disappoint yourself, your people–”

  “You are not helping, Ruari,” Loch grumbled.

  Despite the grumbling, Ruari continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “And you will still be king. We are not without error. Your mistakes are just
scrutinized more closely.”

  Loch knew this, but it didn’t stop him from doubting himself or wondering if he was enough for the kingdom. There was something he already regretted deeply, which was the topic of magic, and he wondered if it wasn’t too late to appeal to the council. He was king after all, and he did have the final say, but what form of backlash would it cause, he wondered.

  “Thank you, Ruari, for that… pep talk.”

  Ruari shrugged his slender shoulders and grinned. “You’re welcome. Also, you’re now a few minutes late. They sent me in to grab you.”

  Loch’s eyes bulged, and his body lurched forward in preparation of darting through the hall.

  “Relax, they were still drawling on.” Ruari chuckled, swimming through the doorway with his brother. “I’ll see you out there in a moment, Your Majesty.” With that, he swam off.

  A knot formed in Loch’s stomach, but he continued to swim down the hall until he rounded the corner to where several servants awaited him. One held the jewel-encrusted trident that once belonged to his father, King Eidir. Another held the coral crown that once sat atop the king’s head. In just a few moments they would belong to him.

  “You look just like the king when he was your age,” one of the servants murmured. “May Muir bless you, Your Majesty.” He bowed his head and swam behind Loch, draping a cape of deep blue on his shoulders.

  Inhaling, Loch steadied himself and swam out to the balcony. It was crowded with the members of the council who would witness and document the event. Below the palace a throng of individuals writhed, their murmurs quieting once Loch showed his face.

  The High Priest Rhizpa pat his hand in the water, motioning for the attendants to quiet. When they did, he turned to Loch and spoke. “Sir, do you agree to take an Oath this day of your own free will?”

  “I do,” Loch replied.

  High Priest Rhizpa turned to one of the councilmen. Extending his hand, he waited for the merman to place a conch shell in it. When he turned back to Loch, he motioned for him to open his fist, then placed the shell into his palm. “Do you solemnly swear to rule the Peoples of Selith, according to the laws and customs?”