“What solution?”
“There’s another child of mine," Poseidon states.
Pieces are starting to come together, and Jo finally stands. She walks down the steps to stand directly in front of what she’s coming to believe really is a god.
“Then why can’t this other child defeat Perses?”
“She’s not strong enough, not yet, and she won’t be before the deadline,” Venus explains.
Jo’s stomach is twisted in knots—she has a bad feeling about all of this.
“Who is she? This girl we need?” Jo demands.
Poseidon smiles, and she sees now that he’s examining her.
“You remind me of my wife,” he tells her. “No wonder she likes you.”
There’s a creeping realization on the horizon of Jo’s mind, and she’s already shaking her head as if that will stop the inevitable truth.
“Who is it?” Beck snarls, tired of all the games.
“Her name is Shea,” V announces, “Captain Shea Lara of the Veiled Duchess. And she is the only demigod daughter of Poseidon alive today.”
Jo shuts her eyes tight as if it will turn all of this into a dream. A hand grasps hers and it makes Jo’s eyes snap open.
She’s staring into her lover’s father’s eyes, and she sees it, she sees the truth. She pulls her hand from his grip.
“And she’s the only one who can take us to Tenaro safely,” Poseidon states.
Venus opens her mouth to continue, but Jo turns from Poseidon to glare at her.
“You knew. All this time. And you never told her what she was.”
“I couldn’t,” Venus tries to explain, but Jo refuses to listen.
“Guards!”
“You know who they’re talking about?” Beck investigates, looking mildly confused.
The guards usher in and await Jo’s command.
“Yes,” Jo responds before giving her orders to the soldiers. “Contact General Soren. Tell him it’s time to bring Shea home. Before it’s too late.”
Jo looks at V. “She won’t come easily.”
V produces a pouch from her cloak and hands it to one of the guards before giving her instructions.
“Here, take this. Tell the general to use it as a last resort. This will work.”
The guards rush off to contact General Soren.
Jo sits back heavily in her throne, staring off into the distance toward the garden, toward the Lover’s Fountain.
She clears her throat and speaks to the remaining beings in the room, “Gather supplies. We leave for Tenaro as soon as she arrives.”
Chapter 4: Red-Handed
Shea
“I told you we shouldn’t have stopped in Lycos!”
“You really want to have this conversation now?” Shea growls, ducking as another arrow flies over her head, piercing straight through her captain’s hat.
The arrow hits a barrel and her hat drops to the ground in front of her. She picks it up as they continue running through the Lycon port.
A screech echoes from above and Shea scans the sky, spotting a blue blur shoot past Aster, Caen, and herself.
“A key? I thought we were here for the map,” Aster shouts, diving out of the way as an arrow almost pierces his back.
He manages to roll, but loses some of the supplies he’s carrying.
Caeruleus screeches again through the air.
Shea turns around to see her familiar catch a flying arrow headed for the small of her back.
She whistles up to her faithful Lionbird and hears a yowl in response.
The strange Hunter of Apollo shouts in frustration and pushes past a group of elven slaves to keep up with the three pirates. She still can’t believe a Hunter of Apollo is hunting alone, normally there’s at least seven of them in a group.
She’s come to the assumption that he’s no longer with the order because he’s missing their signature long hair that is normally tied up in a braided bun. It’s obvious his black hair was cropped at the shoulders, forcibly from the look of his ragged ends. A disgraced Hunter, perhaps?
Whatever the reason, he seems to hold a personal grudge; the older man has been after them for months. His scarred and tattooed face showing up at the worst of times.
“Well, now we have the key.” Shea grins, answering Aster.
She places her hat back on top of her head and briefly looks down at the small black key dangling from her neck.
For a year they’ve been searching for the Lycon Vault of Secrets. Shea thought this stop was going to lead them to the map but instead it had led them to a small temple in the slums of Acheron dedicated to the worship of Queen Amphitrite. Not exactly popular considering the patron goddess of Lycos is Scylla, the treacherous cliff side sea monster.
Expecting to be turned away, Shea was shocked when the priestess had taken one look at her and felt compelled to help.
The priestess explained that she had stolen the key from the high priestess of the royal temple of Scylla in the heart of Acheron when she had been an acolyte. She’d kept it hidden ever since she escaped and became a follower of the queen of the sea.
She gave it to Shea and told her that when the time was right, she’d know what to do with it.
And Shea definitely knows; all she needs is the map and this slave port will become just a port.
Freedom for her kind.
Another arrow flies past her and she’s brought back to the trouble at hand.
Not only does she seem to have her own personal bounty hunter, Shea has heard rumors of at least six sinkings of famed pirate ships all over Nereid. Good men that she had allied with on more than one run.
But they had to risk coming to Lycos, especially with the lead they had for the vault. At least now they have the key to it.
After obtaining the piece, Caen, Aster, and Shea headed down to the market to gather other supplies the ship was seriously lacking. They hadn’t thought to bring a large party, not with the amount of people after them. They needed to sneak in quietly and sneak out. Unfortunately, the Hunter had followed them to Lycos, and he caught sight of them almost immediately. Not a lot of places for Shea to hide in Lycos.
“A key!” Caen shouts angrily, drawing Shea out of her thoughts. “It’s a key. For all we know, it’s a fake! Now we have no map and a fake key. Why do we follow you again?”
Shea ignores Caen in favor of glancing back toward their assailant, her red hair braided away from her face, as she can’t let any loose strands fly in front of her one good eye.
Caeruleus screeches through the air as an arrow flies past her precious companion and Shea almost stops running, shocked by the close call.
“Caeruleus! Back to the ship!”
Caeruleus yowls but listens to Shea as he flies off in the direction of the Duchess.
She swiftly uncaps the waterskin that is hooked to her belt where her gold sword used to be.
After everything that happened, Mariner using her own sword to cut things away from her, Shea couldn’t find the resolve to continue using it. She tried when she first got back, but every use only brought her unease. Instead it now sits in her quarters collecting dust.
She stares at it sometimes after waking up to her or Aster’s screaming from the nightmares, but she doesn’t dare touch it.
She pulls the water from the flask using her magic. She’s cultivated it over the past year and become quite the impressive Aquarian: elves who can manipulate water, Aquarius magic, and use it to their will. Apparently, it’s an extremely rare elemental gift to develop without being claimed by a god, like those who go through the Underdeep initiation in Erebos. Which has only given her more questions as to who she is—as her ability with water isn’t the only thing that has developed.
After her miraculous recovery from her duel with Prince Mariner, her healing became magically quick, cuts closing after a few hours of receiving them.
If she washes her wounds with water, the liquid will knit t
he skin back together in minutes. It’s terrifying, which is why she hasn’t told anyone—not even Caen—about her new gift.
She pushes the water from the flask back toward the ex-Hunter of Apollo and imagines razors in the water’s place. It shapes the liquid, changing the form until it’s thin like knives. As soon as it reaches the enemy, she slices the water down on his release arm where he’s holding the string and arrow, causing him to cry out in pain.
He loses his hold on his bow, slowing him down.
That’s all they need.
“This guy just doesn’t give up,” Aster complains, trying to hold on to the four bags of supplies he managed to grab before the Hunter showed up.
“Less whining, more running,” Caen orders.
Shea laughs when she sees Aster shoot him a glare.
She draws the water toward her using a summoning position with her hands, while also collecting some seawater from the harbor, pulling all of it back into the waterskin.
She caps the top of the bag and they keep to their course, running away from the port to the black beaches leading up the coast.
They shouldn’t have stopped for supplies on their way back from retrieving the key, but the Duchess was dangerously low.
The seas have changed. Monsters of old now guard the horizons and the crew has luckily survived more attacks than they’d probably care to admit, thanks to Shea’s growing abilities.
On top of her powers as an Aquarian and her new and improved healing skills, her charms and barrier spells are also more effective. Now she can simply enchant the ship and sail past enemies unnoticed. The masking spells are harder to pass by the monsters, but to mortal eyes they’re invisible.
It’s incredible and extremely draining.
The first time Shea did it, it’d been an accident. She saw the Banshee, a rival pirate ship, and something had ripped from inside her. She hit the deck unconscious before she could see the mist she’d created veiling them from the threat.
Shea’s built a tolerance since then and can stay conscious after using that much magic, but there’s still a long way for her to go. Most of her magic is self-taught charms and forms. In whatever this is, she’s merely a novice, but it’s at least enough to keep them moving.
When they got the message about Lycos and the priestess, there’d been some debate, but their goal was clear and so the crew, with some reluctance, dropped anchor along the upper coast away from the port.
The former Hunter of Apollo isn’t the only one hunting them.
Lieutenant Soren, who helped them all defeat the prince, has been after them under Jo’s orders just like they agreed to since day one.
He’s been trailing their every move, and he’s attacked more than once to make it interesting. But overall, Shea can’t help but think her princess, now queen, is letting her get away. And each time it happens, she wonders whether she’s elated or disappointed.
“Where is he?”
Shea shakes herself out of her musings as they drop off the wooden planks and hit the ground with a smooth landing. She looks back toward the port but sees no sign of their assailant.
“I don’t know.”
Shea answers Aster, who’s bent over his knees trying to catch his breath.
She examines the blond boy—no, young man—with a fond expression. He turned sixteen two weeks ago and he’s finally grown into his ears.
Shea winces at the thought as her green eye catches the blue scarf wrapped through Aster’s hair, over his forehead and the tips of his scarred ears, tied at the base of his neck. His chest has broadened out a little and his pale green eyes are just a tad more serious than they used to be. They’re the same height, and it makes her groan every time he brings it up.
Their eyes meet and he smiles, but she still notices the flickering of his gaze to her owns scars.
He scans her damaged left eye before averting his gaze.
Shea smiles back at him like she didn’t notice.
It never changed back to its green color, still pure white. Caen bothers her about wearing a patch, but she wears her scar and white eye with pride; she won’t hide because she fears that’s what he would have wanted.
The port’s expanse is finally behind them, and Caen, who’s carrying six bags of food on his shoulders, is panting slightly.
“We should continue on to the ship, we have enough to last us a week here, it’ll at least get us to Oceanus.”
Shea thinks it over and then nods. She wonders if she cut the Hunter deeper than she thought, although she’s seen him fight through worse. He may have gone for a healer and if so, they could be able to gain some ground between them.
“Let’s move.”
They take off at a jog down the beach, scanning for hidden figures or oncoming attacks along the tree line border inland, but they don’t see any.
After about an hour, they believe they’re finally in the clear and slow to a walk. They’re close enough to the Duchess anyway.
Shea takes the opportunity to walk beside Aster.
“Something on your mind?” Shea inquires as she steps into place next to her cabin boy.
She can’t help but smile as he steps into the surf, the seawater lapping at his boots.
It’s been a long year for the both of them.
“The usual,” he answers, finally meeting her gaze.
Shea sighs.
It’s time she gave him the talk.
“Aster. It happens when it happens, it’s not something that can be forced and you shouldn’t want to force it either.”
Aster stops and Shea does as well. He meets her eyes, his eyebrows wrinkled, and his mouth turns downward.
“But it should have happened by now and you know it. I’m getting too old.”
“There isn’t a time limit. There have been cases where it’s taken elves into their adult life to receive.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Look, Dari says—”
“Dari?”
Shea inwardly groans.
She should have kept her big mouth shut. Shea tries walking farther along the black sandy beach to catch up with Caen, but Aster jogs up to her, falling into place beside her once again.
“You’ve been talking to Dari? So you are worried?”
“Aster.” Shea smiles, looking at the teen as they keep walking. “I’m not worried. She’s more knowledgeable with these things and I wanted to get all the information I could. It’s not the end of the world if it doesn’t happen.”
Aster kicks a bit of sand toward the water and growls in frustration.
“It’s just one more thing to make me less of an elf! Face it! You came into your magic at what? Eight? I’m never getting magic, I don’t even have my tips, which is probably why—”
Aster cuts himself off, and Shea stops him, placing her hand on his shoulder and turning him to face her.
“Is why? Is why you don’t have magic?”
Aster nods, his bottom lip a ghost of a quiver.
He’s grown so much from the trauma.
Shea examines his almost adult face. Sixteen
It’s only been a year, but she can’t remember the last time he cried.
Prince Mariner affected them both; he left permanent scars that will always keep him in their lives, but he took more than just the tips of Aster’s ears, Shea realizes. He took Aster’s security as an elf, and Shea wishes she had spotted it sooner.
She pulls his hard-muscled frame close to her and wraps her arms around his broadening shoulders.
“Now you listen to me,” Shea whispers into his ear. “Losing your tips had nothing to do with your claiming. For one, we’re not in Erebos, we can’t go through the initiation, and who wants to be tethered to some old god anyway. Besides, some elves don’t even receive magic, but that doesn’t make them any less elven. Nor does losing your tips. Being elven, it’s just a race. It doesn’t define who you are as a b
eing. Is Dari less of an elf because she doesn’t have her left arm?”
Aster hugs Shea closer and shakes his head no.
“Am I less of an elf because of my eye?”
At that Aster pulls back, looking to Shea’s eyes with a shocked expression.
“No! You’re amazing, you’re stronger than that.”
“And you”—Shea grasps his face between her palms, smiling—“are stronger than this. You don’t need magic, Aster, to be a part of our culture. You’re a fighter. You’re a pirate, and you’re my kid regardless of matching ears or matching magic, or matching eyes!”
Shea laughs and it makes Aster chuckle too. She pushes up onto her toes and kisses the top of his forehead, which he protests, playfully pushing her away.
“We should probably catch up.”
“Yeah,” Aster agrees with a grin.
He looks up ahead and cocks his head. “I don’t see Caen.”
Shea scans ahead as well. “He’s probably turned the corner waiting for our lazy asses. Come on, we don’t need a grumpy Caen on our hands.”
Shea breaks into a jog and Aster follows her lead. They round the corner of the beach and come face-to-face with Caen on his knees.
His hands are bound behind his back and four Arethusian soldiers are holding on to him with a gag in his mouth. Among the four soldiers are about twelve other men, but the one who catches her attention is the general, standing at the forefront of the ambush.
“Soren.”
The former Lieutenant Soren, and now General Soren, as Shea had been apprised from Jo’s letters, stands before her, sword drawn along with his other men.
A screech echoes nearby and Shea sees Caeruleus imprisoned within a gilded birdcage, his large paws slashing at the bars. One of the navy men near the cage is clutching his wounded arm, covered with deep scratches; he must have had the pleasure of catching her Lionbird.
Shea turns toward the shoreline to find the Duchess tied to an Arethusian navy vessel, and two longboats beached.
She curses in elvish.
It’s too bloody soon.
“Captain Lara, pleasure to see you again.”
The Veiled Descendants Page 5