Drown Another Day

by F. A. Bentley

  “Somebody else’s team?”

  “Someone other than Heaven. Somebody against Heaven but that isn’t with Hell.”

  I let out a low whistle. “I didn’t know Angels worked like that. Who the Hell could possibly have the power to employ an Angel of Death?”

  “Good question,” Lis said. “Oh. That reminds me. Your cell was blowing up while you were asleep. And no, Charlie, I didn’t smash it in a fit of mild displeasure. You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you.”

  I checked my poor phone, a wide crack streaking across the left of the screen from where I’d been tossed about the night before. It still worked though. Twenty eight missed calls. Two from Stheno, one from Nine Towers, and twenty five from another number.

  I punched the last number in. My call was picked up on the second ring.

  “Ashwell.”

  “Squidmask,” I replied. “I might have known.”

  I heard Alexander draw in a long breath and release it. That was the gladdest I’d ever heard him, “Charles Locke. You’re alive.”

  “Glad to see you are too. Surprisingly. Hector?” I asked.

  “Got away. Make it out?”

  “Siren tried to get me. Wimbleton’s dead, but I killed the sea hag.”

  I could tell he was doing his very best not to start the conversation with a question about the books. I appreciated that.

  “What about--” he began, before I cut him off.

  “Your books?” I asked.

  I turned to Lis to see her eyes stuck back onto the laptop screen. A long sharp fingernail was pointed to the night stand, where both books lay dry and all accounted for. I pushed the image of Lis blow-drying them out of my head.

  “Both here.”

  “Location?” Ashwell asked.

  “Two floor hotel. I forget the name, it’s two streets to the right of Ca’ Foscari on--”

  “Chopper en route.”

  “Say again?” I asked.

  “Helicopter coming to pick you up. We have all we need Charles. At long last we’re going to do it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do what, Ashwell?”

  “Affect a jailbreak, Mr. Locke. We’ll discuss further in a few minutes. Regards.”

  The line went dead. I cursed and scrambled for my shredded Kevlar. It could survive one more final run, right? Back up gun retrieved. Books pocketed. Wand in hand. I reached for the door and opened it before turning around.

  “Lis--”

  “Despite the pain your wounds won’t physically impair you. Just remember to wear a life jacket if you’re going swimming Charlie,” she said. “Safety first.”

  A smile tugged at my lips. “I think that’s about to become the least of my worries.”

  Chapter 37

  “Estimated time of arrival is ten minutes,” spoke the co-pilot, looking over his shoulder towards us.

  I could barely hear him over the thudda thudda of helicopter blades cutting the sky. Staring out the window, I counted about a dozen separate choppers making their way across stark blue Mediterranean sea.

  “Signal from headquarters,” declared the co-pilot anew.

  “Put it on the main vox,” replied Alexander.

  A click, and then the crackle of a really bad call connection could be heard above the engine.

  “Ashwell?” spoke a vaguely familiar voice.

  “Admiral. We’re on route to the operation zone,” squid mask replied stiffly.

  “Good. Is the agent there as well?”

  “I am,” I replied.

  “Heard a lot about you. Never thought I’d live to see the day someone from Nine Towers would willingly aide us.”

  “When Nine Tower’s official enemy tries to kill me less often than our Olympian allies, it tends to blur my loyalties. Enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  “Refreshing,” Admiral Marsh remarked.

  “That’s what I said. Got a few questions about this operation though. Alexander has been tight lipped, so I was hoping you’d answer for me. As a sign of good faith.”

  Alexander stared at me. The mood in the cockpit grew strained.

  “Go on,” came the comm line’s response.

  “Alexander called this a jailbreak. Who the hell are we breaking out of jail, and why? For that matter, what’s to stop the Olympians from just killing the prisoner before we get to them?”

  The reply was instantaneous. Practiced. “That’s classi--”

  “An old friend,” Ashwell said, cutting off the Admiral.

  “Old friend?” I asked.

  “About four thousand years ago, the Dagonians lived in the Mediterranean. However Neptune, or Poseidon as he called himself back then, didn’t enjoy sharing his status as sea god very much. There was a war.”

  “And the Olympians won the war,” I supplied. “That’s why the Siren called you all exiles.”

  “Correct. The Dagonians were thrown out into the barren depths of the Atlantic ocean. Most died. Some made it to distant shores.”

  “Doesn’t make sense. Dagonians aren’t god-like. There’s no reason Neptune or his cronies would have been jealous. Instead of exiling you guys, he should have made you servants like the Mermen, the Scylla, and the Sirens,” I said.

  Ashwell offered me a crooked smile. “I appreciate your curiosity but my lips are sealed regarding further information. Let’s just say the reason the Dagonians weren’t made minions was because of their friend and leave it at that.”

  Again with this buddy of theirs. Just what sort of friendship can inspire this sort of loyalty from the fish men anyhow? What sort of friend could make a Greek God jealous to the point of trying to annihilate an entire race rather than lording over them?

  My memories taunted me in a smug devilish voice. Trust me, Charlie. Human perception is built on pillars of sand.

  This must be what Lisistrathiel was talking about. The problem wasn’t with the information I had, but with my perception of it. If I changed my point of view just a bit, would I see some bigger picture?

  Think.

  A ‘friend’ that could make a Greek God green with envy? Inspire a race of secretive fish men to loyally attempt a break him out even after thousands of years have passed by? Fish men who the Olympians considered easier to slaughter whole sale than to try and rule over because of this friendship?

  The puzzle pieces clicked into place. My eyes widened in realization.

  “The reason the Dagonians weren’t made minions was because they already had a master. Didn’t they, Ashwell? We’re not rescuing an old friend. We’re rescuing a God.”

  Ashwell’s face went pale. Only the crackling of comms and the rumble helicopter engines could be heard.

  “...Correct,” Ashwell admitted.

  “No wonder you didn’t want to tell me,” I said, rubbing my forehead.

  Ashwell chuckled weakly, shaking his head. “Freeing a primeval deity of the ancient world from a millennium old prison? It’s a little difficult to give that sort of objective a positive spin, don’t you think Mr. Locke?”

  This is the goddamn plot to every major Lovecraft story!

  “What sort of guarantee is there that this thing isn’t going to melt our brains and then sink the whole world beneath the waves the split second it’s freed?” I demanded.

  “Because,” crackled the Admiral’s voice over the comms. “Since the time of our forefathers, our friend has aided us. Advised us. And when we were cornered, willingly offered himself up to spare our total destruction.”

  “Apparently this God of theirs is quite a stand up fellow,” supplied Ashwell. “But I doubt our words will convince you if you’ve already made up your mind. Will you still help us?”

  Good question.

  From a professional point of view, I was practically obligated to sabotage the mission at any cost. I could just imagine the big cowls back at HQ screaming their heads off at what a bad idea helping Ashwell would be.

  No dice.

  From a Human point of v
iew, freeing an ancient God didn’t sound like a good plan either. After all, what harm does it do Humanity if a bunch of smelly fish men die off? Especially when we stand to lose everything should the monster prove upset from his millenium long imprisonment.

  Not a chance.

  From a moral point of view, I couldn’t trust the Dagonians either. Fanatical loyalty to a God made their true intentions utterly alien. Impossible to determine. This could all be one big elaborate trick to get me to help them.

  But.

  Of all the people I’ve met in Venice, spoken to fought against and put up with, the Dagonians were surely the most Humane. Disabling bombs that Olympians set up? Willingly trusting me with the only means by which they could locate their God? Sacrificing life and limb to protect a sworn enemy that happened to give them the slightest bit of cooperation?

  Yeah. I can work with that.

  “You’re damn right I’ll help.”

  Alexander nodded.

  “Ashwell was right,” the Admiral said. “You are different, warlock. God’s speed. Our future lies in your hands.”

  “T-minus thirty seconds,” the co-pilot announced. “Prepare to jump.”

  Chapter 38

  Dizzying heights and I have a live and let live relationship. I stay as close to the ground as physically possible as often as possible, and my fear of heights leaves me the hell alone. Today was not going to be one of those live and let live days.

  “Are you sure you don’t need a diving helmet?” Shouted a Hybrid over the helicopter’s engine.

  I shook my head. My ring of water breathing was about to earn it’s keep in spades.

  A signal from the pilot and two dozen armed and ready fish men, plus Alexander and me, jumped. My fear of heights was quickly quashed by the cold hard slap of sea water. Down I dove, taking in a deep breath of air thanks to the ring.

  It was the strangest feeling. For a second my body tingled and shuddered, surprised I hadn’t just drunk deep a whole lot of sea water. I wonder if first time scuba divers felt the same.

  Alexander tapped my shoulder, his head encased in a bubble of air as well. Without a word he pushed a device in my hands that I quickly recognized. A scuba motor. I silently thanked America for overbloating it’s military budget to the point where scuba motors were being handed out like Jehovah’s witness brochures.

  A click turned the motor on, and holding onto it’s gripped handles, I followed the main body of Dagonians down into the abyssal depths. Just where the hell were they taking me? Where did those ‘tourist pamphlets’ lead to anyways?

  It was dark this deep beneath the waves. My head ached with the pressure of so much sea water above me. But why wasn’t anyone turning on their lights?

  Movement up ahead. The Dagonians scurried into a craggy patch of sea weed and reef. I followed suit just in time to avoid them. Merman patrol. Tridents in hand. Clam shell armor.

  Sharks on kelp leashes.

  A rushed patrol at that. They were gone as quick as they’d come. Instead of proving dangerous, they’d been informative. We were getting very close to where they didn’t want us.

  “Do you see it?” whispered a voice in my ear.

  It sounded like Ashwell’s. I craned my neck around until I saw what he was talking about.

  Red blinking lights, all the way down, straddling what looked to be an enormous underwater canyon. As we approached closer and closer, I could make out the dim glint of metal.

  “We’re splitting up. Come with me Charles,” murmured Ashwell’s voice anew. “The Dagonians shall perform a disturbance operation. You have the honors of infiltrating through the back with me.”

  He must be using magic to speak to me. I guess Eldritch spells had a lot of overlap with Egomancy.

  The plates of the underwater facility shone in the red flashes of light. TARTAROS II, was printed on the side in massive industrial letters. I felt my heartbeat quicken. The Olympians took this place very seriously to give it a name like that. I’d better be on my toes for anything.

  A massive pipe spread out from the main structure up ahead. Probably an entrance of some sort. We swam up beneath it only to find it shut with heavy duty metal doors.

  Shit.

  “Somewhat problematic. Charles, would you kindly jam your wand sword between the plates? I don’t think George can get a grip as is.”

  I made a mental note to punch Alexander if he made anymore references to doomed underwater cities.

  Arcana hardened upon the tip of my wand. As thin as I could make it. I slipped the tip between the metal doors, then willed it to expand bit by bit. The barnacle encrusted doors groaned, and budged just an inch before spiked tentacles leaped into the gap I made and heaved them open.

  As I surfaced, I drew in a deep breath of stale facility air.

  “Ah, much better,” I said.

  “Don’t like not being able to talk?” Ashwell asked.

  I grinned. “My head was about to explode with all the quips and mean spirited replies I’d saved--”

  I was only joking when I said my head was about to explode, but apparently, something took my cute turn of phrase literally because I suddenly felt searing pain all over my brain. Enough to leave me completely dazed.

  It only felt like a second passed, but in that second, enough excruciating pain echoed through my mind to fill a decade. It was like the worst hangover I’ve ever had multiplied by eight hours of listening to jackhammers break pavement to the power of Lis singing along to Christmas Mass.

  You’re not one of them. This bodes ill. Very ill.

  I’m not one of what? For that matter where the hell did that thought even come from? Was the pressure finally getting to me? Did I burst a blood vessel on the way down here?

  Turn around. Leave now. Continuing will jeopardize everything I’ve worked for. I beg of you.

  Who, me?

  “Ah.”

  Whining screeching echoing filled my ears anew. Like a flash bang just went off an inch from my face. I became vaguely aware that Alexander was shaking me.

  “Don’t,” I choked out.

  “Don’t?” he replied.

  “Don’t give me CPR. Lis will never let me live it down.”

  “Charles. You’re delirious. Stars and stripes what happened to you?” he demanded.

  At last I regained my senses. “I’m fine. Just fine.”

  “Who’s Lis?” he asked.

  I grinned wickedly. “My chauffeur. We don’t have another minute to spare. Let’s get this done.”

  Chapter 39

  “A Hekatonkheires built the original prison?” asked the Merman with the pierced fin. “Which one?”

  The other Merman with the coral dagger shook his head. “That’s just it. It wasn’t one of the three. I heard that it was something that only looked like a Hekatonkheires.”

  Pierced fin dragged a webbed hand through his kelp-like hair. “It always felt like a musty old jail to me. Guess this just proves it. Where’s the main force?”

  “Hours out.”

  “What about the exiles?”

  “Neither fin nor tooth of them yet.”

  “Hector must be getting paranoid. Can’t believe he even saddled us with those--”

  “Walk and talk. They’ll have our hides if we don’t finish patrol.”

  “Right.”

  The sopping slap of Merman feet became muffled with distance. I released my breath and opened the draining grate.

  “We’re getting close,” I told Alexander.

  The book toting mage clambered out of the grate behind me nodding his agreement. “Good thinking using the drainage system.”

  “More and more patrols means that we’re close. Isn’t it about time you tell me what we’re looking for? Where’s this ancient cosmic horror imprisoned?”

  “If our aquatic allies are to be believed, then their God was quite impressive in size. I don’t think we can miss it.”

  “That doesn’t mean a damn thing. You have George
in a tiny corner store novel don’t you? This thing could be kept in an enchanted fish bowl for all we know.”

  “That’s what makes working with the Eldritch so fun,” Alexander said, his eyes alight with intense joy. “You never know what to expect.”

  “I should have stuck with the Olympians,” I said. “Lead on.”

  The halls were rusted, and groaned with the strain of water pressure. The lights in the facility were of poor quality at best. It felt like the whole place was one brown out away from becoming a benighted water park themed tomb.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when a loud warning siren went off. Archaic warning devices that looked like they belonged back in World War Two flooded the halls with red light.

  “Looks like they found our buddies,” I said.

  “Now’s our chance. We’d better hurry,” Alexander replied.

  Most of the patrols ought to have been drawn by the Dagonian bait. At this rate, we might just make it in and out without have to cast a single spell.

  A man can dream, can’t he?

  Pressurized doors opened to reveal a massive domed room. The glass roof offered a breath-taking gaze of the sea above, as floodlights lit up schools of indifferent fish and coral alike.

  I didn’t have much time to appreciate the view. My eyes quickly focused on the centerpiece of the room. A twenty foot tall mound of coral and primeval rock encapsulated in a suspiciously state of the art aquarium. Six inch thick bullet proof glass and reinforced steel bars all around it.

  “That’s our man,” Alexander said, just as a trident embedded itself in the metal floor at his feet.

  A mass of Mermen crawled out of hiding spots and blind angles like clowns out of a clown car. Robed sorcerers with pearl talismans and coral staffs focused their wills into deadly hums of magical power as net toting warriors crept up our flanks ready to pounce.

  “And here’s our ambush,” I replied.

  “Child’s play. Watch my back, Charles. Charles?”

  I nearly toppled over. The ringing was back. My brain was very seriously considering melting out of my ears. Not as drawn out this time, but the pain was more acute. It felt like someone just hit the back of my head with a baseball bat.