Flood and Fire

by Deirdra Eden

  He backed me against the door and our blades crossed in front of our faces. He pushed against the locked swords until his face was uncomfortably close to mine. “Your swordplay is impressive, signorina.” He spoke with a smile, but his neck strained and a vein pulsed from his brow. He was so close I could smell the rank tobacco on his breath.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet.” I lifted the latch of the door, stepped aside, and let his momentum carry him onto the deck. He stumbled and gathered his composure as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light. A black pirate flag whipped through the air from the ship’s mast, confirming my suspicion. I embraced the sunlight. My body sparkled in the warmth of the sun as I absorbed the glowing energy.

  Gold and black teeth glinted from the smiles of the thugs advancing toward me. Fire rushed through my body. I raised one sword high and pointed the other one forward, inviting the pirates to challenge me.

  My opponent scrambled between his men and me. He warned the filthy men advancing upon me, “If anyone intervenes in this fight, I will kill them.”

  I rushed at him, attacking and leaving no opening for him to penetrate. He dodged several times and backed up. He darted across the deck with suave familiarity, stepping over ropes and avoiding barrels as he moved backward. It was too bad he used his impressive sword-fighting skills for pirating.

  “Have you tired of this dull dance?” he asked. “Your skill is stunning and I am quite sure we can find a better use for you than this pointless fight.” His condescending smile only made me more determined to get away.

  I jumped and spun through the air with my blades extended. The pirate leapt back from my aerial strike. Without waiting to take a stance, I sprang toward him. He darted from me and countered with a deadly hack that rebounded off my sword. Our weapons clanged with a jolt that made my blade vibrate. If I were still mortal, I would have felt the tingling all the way down to my elbow.

  I lashed my blades toward his neck, but he countered my assault with a complex double parry thrust combination and a terrorizing laugh. He took two steps forward, maneuvering an attack that left me with both arms pinned against the side of the boat by his arms, and his body uncomfortably close, trapping me. I was under strict orders not to reveal my Immortal or Watcher identity—leaving my mind spinning as I tried to force my way out of this difficult position without using my powers or immortal strength.

  As his leering smile widened and his face inched closer to mine, instinct took over. Using my immortal power, I yanked my arms upward. My opponent narrowly missed having his head sliced off as he ducked. A second later I shoved him across the width of the deck.

  Several pirate spectators stepped forward with clubs and swords to aid him.

  “No!” He shouted, rising and waving his swords at his men. “Do not touch her.” He followed with a quick scolding in Italian that I felt would have my ears burning if I knew the language. The pirates backed away, and my captor advanced cat-like, recovering his perfect composure with every step.

  There would be no escape for me unless I bested my opponent who was obviously the leader of this ship. Even then, I would have to fight the rest of the pirates to convince them to steer toward land and let me off.

  The captain and I circled each other several times, trying to predict the next move the other would make. His hair was now mussed from the slicked back style, loose strands framed his face like saber tooth fangs. His nostrils flared. “I see that I must tame you, signorina, and show you who is master here.” His jaw hardened and he narrowed his eyes.

  A snake slithered across my feet and bared its fangs.

  I let out an involuntary yelp and instinctively moved my weapons to defend against the serpent. The pirate took the opening and the snake vanished. I blocked his assault and noted the rope that, moments earlier, had looked like a poisonous snake.

  I blinked away the false image the pirate had conjured from my mind. Who was this man? I had underestimated him as much as he had me. He was strong and powerful, and I must be careful. Especially if he was a Rebel.

  He roared and plunged into battle, blocking my blows and swinging like a berserker. I flipped one of his swords from his hand. He dashed across the deck and retrieved an axe from a pile of tools. He sprang at me again, hardly missing a beat in our dangerous dance.

  Fighting to regain the offensive position, I deflected his assault and lunged forward. He attacked with the force of a rockslide. The axe swung from above with a chop that was sloppy, but strong. I caught the beard of the axe on my second sword. Our weapons locked in a web of razor edges. I planted my feet like an iron statue and would not be moved as he struggled to shove me against the mast of the ship.

  “It looks like we are equally matched,” he grunted.

  I shook my head and gritted my teeth. “No pirate will ever be my equal.” Suggesting such was an insult. I spun and released our crossed weapons. My blades lashed across his and I took a narrow opening to penetrate the fleshy part of his upper arm.

  The pirate clamped his teeth together, touched his arm, and noted the blood on his fingertips.

  I took deep breaths. I couldn’t feel bad that I hurt someone trying to assault me. To tame me and make me his slave.

  He made a mock attack then dropped to the deck and spun his foot toward my leg. I leapt before he could knock me off balance, but struggled to defend myself from a lower target. His blade grazed against my leg in a shower of sparks. His intent was not lethal, but to draw blood. His eyes narrowed at his failed attempt.

  “Your blade is dull,” I lied. I had to keep my immortality a secret, especially from these power hungry thieves.

  The pirate stepped back and dropped his weapons. “I should have known.” He smiled as if he knew my secret. “No mortal blade can touch you. You are the daughter of Athena.”

  “Daughter of Athena?” I repeated. He believed me to be a pagan demi-god?

  “These weapons are useless against you.” He discarded them and raised his hands in the air as if surrendering.

  The axe and sword bounced across the deck. The boat jolted forward. I planted my feet on the deck and lowered my swords. A wall of water rose into the sky behind the pirate. There was no storm and no natural reason for the wave to surround the ship with threatening malice. This had to be caused by a supernatural power.

  His eyes swirled with a misty blue hue.

  The pirate wasn’t human.

  The swords slipped from my fingertips. No, it couldn’t be. “Alamar?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Alamar’s Theory

  Since he believed me to be a demi-god, Alamar was not surprised that I knew his name and about his powers. Chagrined that I had fought, and quite possibly come close to killing, the very man I had been sent to find, I accepted his invitation to join him for dinner. It would give me the perfect opportunity to explain things to him, convince him to give up piracy, and follow me to the sanctuary. I was blessed more than I deserved. I felt sure my mission would be over by the next morning. With Alamar in control of the seas, he could have us back at the Northern Sanctuary in no time.

  I sat across the table from him in his cabin, the same one he’d attempted to imprison me in hours earlier. Candles lit the dim black room and flickered off our faces. Everything seemed too formal. Perhaps Alamar had ulterior motives for inviting me to such a luxurious meal and he had simply switched tactics to gain his desires. This seemed more like courting and less like a friendly meal to discuss travel and training business.

  And considering I still wore his black robe, it made me even more uncomfortable.

  I stared down at my plate of food. No matter how good it looked, my stomach turned as I thought about eating food prepared by filthy pirates.

  Despite the horrible surroundings and the poor company that loomed just outside the private cabin, one question weighed heavily on my mind. “What day is it?” I tried to sound casual about the question, but I desperately needed to know. I could have been at the bottom of th
e ocean for years. At least it felt that way. Azrael could be dead, the Celtic war over, and the druids could have given up their search for me decades ago.

  “It is Saturday,” Alamar said slowly, taking another bite of food.

  “Of what year?” My hands shook so hard I clenched my knees to hide the trembling.

  Alamar looked at me like I had tentacles growing out of my neck.

  “Please,” I begged. “I need to know.”

  “It is June 20th of the year 1327.”

  I let out a deep sigh and sank into my chair. I had only been under the ocean for three days—an eternal three days—but nonetheless, three days was much better than three centuries. The great King of Neviah had been merciful again, even when I didn’t deserve it.

  Alamar picked up his fork and prodded the roast in front of him. “Where did you say you were from?”

  “I’m from a kingdom called Neviah. In Neviah there are many people, like us, with gifts.”

  “I see,” he mused with a wry smile. “And your gift is to sparkle like la bella noche?”

  I looked down at my opal-like skin. “No, this is Lifelight.” Excitement raced through me. “The fact that you can see my Lifelight proves you are Neviahan.”

  Alamar slightly lifted his lips in an amused smile. “How come I don’t have the … what did you call it?”

  “Lifelight,” I repeated. “Only the women of our kind have it.”

  “I see.” Alamar smirked, clearly humouring me.

  My excitement dropped at the condescending way he half-smiled at me. Each minute spent trying to convince him was another minute lost in my desperation to get to Azrael as quickly as possible. “You have to believe me. There is so much I need to tell you.”

  “I’m listening.” He spread a thick layer of butter across his bread.

  I wasn’t sure if he was actually listening. How could he treat this important conversation so casually? When I first learned of my Neviahan origin, I had soaked in the revelation like a parched desert drinks in rain. I waited until he made brief eye contact before repeating the story I had heard so many times myself. “Long ago one third of our kingdom rebelled and came here to Earth. The leader of the Rebellion was a man named Erebus.” I spoke faster so he wouldn’t interrupt me. “The Rebellion started stealing the bodies of mortals and terrorizing the humans of the Earth. The King of Neviah sent his strongest warriors to take human form and fight Erebus and his army.”

  Alamar chuckled and took another bite of his bread.

  “You and I are Neviahan warriors and the druids sent me to find you. They will train you.” I leaned forward, hoping the genuine feeling in my words would impress upon him somehow.

  His expression turned from humour to aggravation faster than the weather over the sea. “I don’t need training,” Alamar snapped.

  “Perhaps not.” I raised my hands in a consoling way. “But the druids can help you become even stronger.” Baiting him with promises of more power might convince him to come with me. It irritated me to find him so advanced in his powers, yet so ignorant about his identity. I imagined how swiftly he could turn the tables of the Celtic War if he fought on our side. I was desperate to save Azrael and the others fighting for our cause.

  Doubt shadowed his face. I had to prove I was telling the truth. I leaned over the table and blew the flames from the candles. The dim room went black.

  Alamar’s fork clanked against the table and he let out an audible, irritated sigh. One by one, I touched the tips of the white candlesticks, bringing them back to life. The warmth of my power wafted gently through me, calming me for the moment by grounding me.

  The candlelight flickered across Alamar’s bemused smile. I moved on to another candlestick, this time leaning toward it and allowing fire to spring from my lips as I blew a flame onto the wick.

  Alamar laughed, delighted. His chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, high brow line, and angle of his nose were almost identical to Azrael’s. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were brothers. Despite his amusement with what now felt like a magic trick, Alamar looked no more convinced of my story than he had a few moments before. I raised my hands in the air and every candle in the room ignited and danced tall, brightening the room to a comfortable light.

  Alamar leaned back into his chair, stroking his chin with his finger and thumb, and studied me, skepticism written into his expression. What more could I do to prove to him I told the truth? “So you don’t remember Neviah?” he asked. He raised one eyebrow, casting doubt over my entire claim.

  I remembered when the Fairy Queen had first told me I was a Watcher. I had doubted as well, and it took more than one conversation to convince me. “A little,” I replied with a warm smile, hoping to gain his trust. “But my memories are faded, like a dream.” Was his question a sign that he was beginning to believe me?

  “How do you know it wasn’t just a dream? How do you know that Neviah even exists? How do you know that the druids aren’t deceivers who are misleading you to do their bidding?” His eyes narrowed as he scoffed at me.

  I held on tightly to my temper, though fire sparked inside me at his words, at his dismissal of my heritage. “I can feel it.” I pressed a hand to my chest, wishing I could transfer my knowledge to him.

  He shook his head with impatience. “That is not a good answer.” He stabbed his fork into his meat then glanced at my untouched plate. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  I picked up one of the forks and poked at a pile of grilled potatoes and carrots, the scent of rosemary wafting off them. A piece of salted meat dominated my plate. “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean you’re not sure?” He asked. “You must be hungry after a fight like that.”

  I shrugged, amused by the passion behind his swaggering accent. I couldn’t remember what hunger felt like. The only craving I had was to complete my mission so I could go to Azrael’s aid. Alamar smiled, but didn’t seem surprised by my hesitation to eat. To appease him, I cut the potato into bite size squares. He watched me, his smile slowly building, eyes widening as I chewed and swallowed. He cared about my reaction to the food, so I savored the bite. My mouth tingled with warm seasonings. I hadn’t expected food prepared by pirates to taste so good. “This is delicious.”

  He sat back, folding his arms smugly over his chest. “Thank you.”

  “Did you make this?” I asked and took another bite.

  He waved his hand above him with a flourish. “I do all my own cooking.”

  “Impressive.” I ate in silence and savored the meal while preparing to try again to convince him of the truth behind his origin and Watcher power.

  “So this Erebus,” Alamar said. The candles in the room flickered at the mention of the dark king’s name. My breath quickened and my heart momentarily raced with panic. Alamar continued, undisturbed. “Have you ever seen him?”

  I shook my head. “Not in his true form.”

  Alamar clicked his tongue. “Of course not,” he said derisively. He shook his head in a pitying way. “A woman who can match swords the way you can does not lack intelligence, but you believe all these far-away-kingdom lies your precious druids tell you.” He sneered the word, a clear indication of his feelings about the druids.

  “They’re not lies.” I hoped my expression didn’t collapse the way my heart did at his stinging words. “The evidence is overwhelming.”

  “Tell me this evidence.” He smirked as he held out his hands in invitation.

  I gripped my fork between my fingers, bending the metal slightly. “If it wasn’t true then why is the Dark Rebellion here on Earth,” my tone steadily increased.

  He scoffed. “What Dark Rebellion?” He made a show of looking around the room, a mocking look of fright on his face.

  “Then why do we have these powers?” I rose out of my seat an inch or two as I leaned toward him. “Why are we even here on this planet?”

  “Hmmm,” Alamar hummed coldly. “I listened to your theory, would you be kind enoug
h to listen to mine?” He wove his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table, eyeing me with a cold, intense stare.

  I nodded for him to share his theory. It was the only decent thing to do, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he was thinking.

  “My mother was a tavern girl in Italy. It wasn’t glamorous, but that’s how she kept me fed and clothed. I never knew my father and she raised me on her own. It wasn’t easy living in a tavern. I hated seeing how the customers treated her.” He spit on the floor, illustrating his disgust. “While I was there,” he went on, “I heard sailors speak of Poseidon, the King of the Sea. I was intrigued and wanted to learn more about the tales of the sea. At fifteen, I decided to relieve my mother of some of her burden and set out on my own. I landed a job in the king’s fleet and started sailing. This is when I discovered my powers.” He closed his eyes and smiled to himself. “The sea empowered me. It filled me. It made me it’s son.”

  I nodded in agreement with this much. I recalled the first time I had discovered my power to create fire. It had been terrifying, but fulfilling.

  He opened his eyes and continued, “Once I discovered my ability to control the seas and create illusions when I’m near the water, it could only mean one thing…”

  I narrowed my eyes and finished his sentence. “You’re a Watcher.”

  His fist slammed onto the table making the plates and utensils jump. “Wrong!” The boat tipped to one side and the waves beat against the wood. “My father is the king of the sea, Poseidon.” Alamar turned from my glare and stared out the window. “One day, I will be able to rejoin my father under the sea.”

  I squared my shoulders. “If this is true, what is keeping you from joining him now?”

  Alamar leaned back in the chair. His hardened expression melted into sadness. “I don’t know. Perhaps it has something to do with who I can become.”

  I took the opening. “Don’t you see?” I leaned across the table earnestly. “I know who you can become.” Alamar obviously had issues with his identity. It must have been hard growing up without a father and living in a tavern. His powers had been revealed during a time in his life when he was still trying to discover his true self. With Erebus hunting him and craving his power to control the seas, Alamar needed the druid’s protection and training now more than ever.