by S D Simper
“You confessed. I heard it. She heard it.” Khastra nodded at Leah and then to the soldiers. “They heard it. The empress consort heard it—that’s damning enough for a trial.”
Realization manifested as horror upon Toria’s face. When she looked to Tallora, her expression was nothing less than pitiful. “How could you?”
“How could I?” Tallora balked, the anger she’d subdued now freely spewing from her mouth. “What you preach is infantilizing—dehumanizing—to my goddess. To me. To my wife! You’re the one who’s betrayed the morals Staella preaches—and to put an innocent little boy in danger? How sick are you?”
A flicker of regret flashed across Toria’s face. “The greater good said—”
“The greater good said to steal a child from his mother?” Tallora saw her weakness and latched on—Toria might still be of use. “If you have any semblance of humanity left, you’ll tell us where he is. Your crimes are your own, but Mocum is innocent.”
“It was never supposed to go this far. I was merely an informant, but then they started asking for more.” Toria looked to the door, then to General Khastra looming above, before finally settling back onto Tallora. “You could still go to them. Everything you said—”
“I adore my wife, you zealot bitch. There’s nothing unnatural about it, so keep your bad opinions to yourself.” Tallora looked to Khastra. “If she won’t talk, what do we do?”
Khastra crossed her arms, enhancing the already threatening aura of her musculature. “I could declare martial law and kill her. Then Priest Rel could use necromancy to interrogate her.” Toria’s face became as white as snow, but Khastra continued. “Or I simply torture her until she tells us the boy’s location, and I arrest everyone found there—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Toria muttered, looking defeated, and she spoke an address in monotone. “He’s there. He’s safe. The men who contacted me weren’t the sort to murder small children without reason.”
Khastra looked to one of the men nearest her. “This is a highly sensitive situation, and so I shall accompany the envoy myself. Send your most trustworthy to escort this woman to the dungeon—keep it secret.”
“Wait,” Tallora said, and the general held up a hand to her men. She stood before Priestess Toria, this corrupt woman, and asked, “Why? Did they promise you anything? How—” She swallowed her anger, though she could not hide the sneer of her lip. “How could you do this and still claim to love Staella?”
“I . . .” Toria’s lip quivered, but she shed no tears. “I do love Staella. I did this for her.”
“But how—”
Tallora was stopped by Leah’s hand on her arm. “When you’ve been told one thing all your life,” she whispered, “it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do, to see it as something wrong. She genuinely believes it.”
As Tallora gazed down upon Toria, all but seeing the cognitive dissonance battle within her, she felt pity, which was a much kinder thing than before. “She should go to trial,” Tallora said. “You can take her now.”
Khastra motioned, and the man she’d spoken to before beckoned for a few to follow. Toria didn’t fight as they took her away.
“I was just like her, once,” Leah said, stance defeated as her hand clutched her wrist. “And I might’ve stayed like her. It’s because of you that I looked a little closer at Staella and saw her as Solvira did instead.”
Tallora offered her a shy smile. Dread flooded her, however, and she looked to the general. “Khastra, Morathma is going to meet Dauriel with Yu’Khrall. They have to be warned.”
“They do,” Khastra said, her lips a thin line as she stared at the wall. “Dauriel chose to forgo any communication devices, lest she lose her resolve. There is no way to reach her.”
“What about Prince Ilaeri? He could create a portal and send someone.”
“I encourage you to ask him,” Khastra said. “But the more pressing matter for the moment is rescuing Leah’s child.”
Leah’s eyes watered at the phrase. Tallora placed a hand on her waist. “I’ll talk to him.”
Khastra didn’t leave immediately; instead, she turned her scrutinizing gaze to Leah and said, “Technically, you should also be arrested for treason. What say you, Mermaid?”
Taken aback, Tallora said, “What? No!”
“I need no justification. I will simply not repeat what she told me.”
Then, she left.
In the same room as Toria’s arrest, Tallora sat with Leah as the latter wept from worry. Blubbering apologies spilled from her lips, but Tallora dismissed them all and simply held her, let her cry.
A sane person would be angry. Tallora just wanted her to smile again. “There’s no one in the kingdom more competent than Khastra, and she’s personally helming this. Mocum will be found; I’m sure of it.”
Strangely . . . she truly was.
But her mind spun at the rest of it. Morathma would be fighting alongside Yu’Khrall. Neoma’s plan already held risks; would this topple the scale?
As she contemplated the dark twist of fate, Khastra entered, evidence of blood on her armor—and a small boy held in her arms, unharmed despite the evidence of swollen eyes and tears.
Leah’s wailing cry held anguish and relief both; Khastra placed Mocum into her embrace. Both mother and son cried, and Tallora nearly joined them, for one small piece of the world was right again.
“I did try to question the men holding him hostage,” Khastra said, then she gestured to the blood on her armor. “But they died. Highly unfortunate. Your boy did not see it, however; I sent him from the room.”
Leah simply cried, keeping a protective hold on her son.
When she finally calmed, Tallora announced her intention to speak to Prince Ilaeri; Leah and Mocum joined, as did Khastra.
In the courtesan wing, Ilaeri sat upon a couch, watching as servants cleaned the carpet of blood. When Tallora explained the reveal and the plan to send someone, he responded by shaking his head.
“Not feasible,” Ilaeri said, his attention on his wine. Tallora’s hope seeped away at his words. “The ship is not a static object and we don’t know where they are. The chance of failure is astronomically high—more likely, whoever we send would drown when they fell into the open sea. Even if I were close, a few miles might as well be the length of the sky for as far as they’d need to swim.”
There was truth in the words—a truth so heavy that Tallora nearly lost balance. “Send me,” she whispered. Ilaeri caught her eye, visibly intrigued. “I can’t drown. If I’m submerged in water, I’ll turn into a mermaid.”
“If you’re willing, I do see the merit.”
Though lightheaded to consider the task ahead, Tallora knew she was the only one. When Ilaeri stood, she looked to Leah, who held her boy in her arms. “This is it, then.”
Ilaeri stood apart from them, glowing slightly in an unmistakable, silver hue. But Leah shook her head, worry etched into her features. “This is exactly what Priestess Toria wanted—for you to be in the ocean.”
“Yes, but Dauriel never would have attacked the Morathan fleet if I were on their boats. Instead, I’ll be on hers, or I’ll swim farther away once I’ve spoken to her. It’s not a perfect plan, but we have no other choice. I’m the only one.”
Leah looked ready to cry anew, but Khastra gave a resigned nod. “I am worried, but you are correct.”
Tallora gave a brief glance to her company and removed the underclothes beneath her skirt. “I don’t want to know what happens if I try to transform while there’s something between my legs,” she said sheepishly.
“Be safe,” Leah said, though her smile trembled.
“You get all my things if I don’t return.”
Leah embraced her. Tallora melted into the gesture, craving the comfort, content to stay until her stomach sickened.
Before her, a portal grew—first a line and then it stretched into an oval, sparking at the edges like lightning. “I don’t know precisely where this
goes,” Ilaeri said. “We don’t know where Yu’Khrall is, so there’s every risk this will lead you straight into his clutches.”
Tallora nodded, swallowing her creeping doubt. “I understand.”
“Good luck, Tallora,” Leah said, and her smile was genuine.
General Khastra offered a hand, which Tallora accepted. “Your tenacity is worth admiring. If you die, I will mourn.”
The strange compliment oddly reassured her. “Thank you. Both of you.”
Tallora clutched her wedding ring where it hung from her neck, praying for courage. She stepped through the portal . .
. . . and fell from the sky.
She gasped, the rush of air overwhelming. She twisted, facing the approaching water—
And plunged.
Familiar cold engulfed her. Her dress weighed her down, but her body sang joyfully at the reunion. The now-familiar sealing of her legs resulted in the return of her beloved tail. Finally breathing, she freed herself of her clothing and let it float away, keeping only her necklace.
Behind her in the darkness, she saw the barest hints of the canyon leading to Stelune. Something odd reflected the light, but she hadn’t the time to investigate. Idly, she wondered if Kal had succeeded, though her heart ached to think he might’ve failed—
Within the black morass of water, Tallora’s keen eyes saw something move.
Gasping, Tallora’s powerful tail pushed her forward. She darted through the waves, cold water rushing past. When she glanced back once more, her eyes had not betrayed her—great tentacles rose in an ever-increasing mass.
He had only one eye, but if it spotted her, Tallora’s life would be forfeit. The urge to scream nearly choked her. Behind, she caught a glance of that horrid yellow eye and panicked.
She dove into a craggy alcove. The rocky wall pressed against her skin, threatening to tear the tender flesh. But she cowered, trembling as the mass blocked the minimal light. Did he know she was here? Would he search for her?
She took vain comfort in the idle thought that his tentacles were too large to fit into her crevice. She shut her eyes and breathed. Goddess Staella—
Darkness covered high above. By Staella’s Grace, the beast was close.
Goddess Staella, please.
She remained against the wall. Only her heartbeat counted the passing time, and she prayed the leviathan couldn’t hear it.
Light appeared.
Clenching her fists, Tallora forced herself away from the wall, daring to peek up to the sky. She saw a clear sea—enough to even witness a blur of distant stars through the watery scene.
She emerged, taking care to look about the top of the crevice before tentatively emerging. Clear oceans surrounded her on every side. No sign of Yu’Khrall.
She offered a silent prayer of gratitude and swam to the surface. High above, the stars were familiar, but beyond, Tallora saw a ship. Her heart sped, but though her body jolted and longed to join it, an urgent cry of no sang through her mind like her own thoughts.
No?
Frowning, she did swim a few degrees closer, enough to spot a flag bearing a crown and stars—
And the barest hint of a leviathan.
Instead, she looked back to the constellations above and swam toward where Solvira would be, knowing she would surely find the correct ship in time. Though with less urgency now, she continued onward, little on her mind save her pulsing blood and her burning arms and tail.
She could not stop. Hours passed.
When the sun burst over the horizon, with it came the silhouette of an armada. Invigorated, Tallora swam faster, the hope of rest and of seeing Dauriel spurring her onward. She knew not which ship was Dauriel’s—they all bore the same flag and decorations—but when she finally neared and risked being shattered upon the hull, she screamed her lungs out, willing someone to hear.
Someone did. A sailor peeked his head over the railing of a ship. Tallora frantically waved her arms, relieved when he barked out an order and a rope fell over the side.
She clutched the knotted rope with all her might, her arms burning to hold her body as they pulled her up. But once her tail left the waves, her legs split, the pain merely a dull ache. Her feet settled upon a knot.
When rough hands helped her climb aboard, she immediately cried, “Which ship has the empress? I must speak to her immediately!”
“Who are you?” one well-dressed man said, and Tallora instinctively covered her nakedness as best as she could.
“My name is Tallora Solviraes. I married your empress not four days ago, and I bear news that will determine the fate of this mission. Please.”
The man muttered quick words to another next to him, who immediately ran up a set of small stairs. Tallora’s entire body shook as a thunderous horn sounded from the vessel she stood upon.
A beam of light shot up in the air from a distant ship behind them. As Tallora stared upon it, she realized it was no mere figment—but a person.
Lady deDieula dove toward them, the ethereal grace of her figure paling to the magnificent wings behind her back. They bore the tendrils of jellyfish and floated just as gracefully as she landed on silent steps. They glistened, pure ethereal light, then faded and disappeared from sight. “Tallora? What a surprise.”
“Lady deDieula,” Tallora said as she dared approach, “I have to see Dauriel immediately.”
Lady deDieula held her arms out. “May I?”
Tallora nodded, allowing deDieula to gently lift and cradle her like a child. Her touch felt odd, as cold as ice, and though the morning was chilly, Tallora felt no end to it—no warmth within her at all. So close, Tallora felt pulsing power in this woman’s veins, and as they flew through the air, though her stomach lurched, she knew there was safety to be found here. One did not become the favored of Ilune without their own well of power, she supposed.
When their descent slowed, a familiar voice cried her name: “Tallora?!”
Tallora looked out and saw Dauriel—her beloved, her wife—remiss of finery. Upon her tanned, sun-kissed body, she wore simple pants and a shirt, the jerkin upon her torso half-unbuttoned. Were it not for the broach of the moon at her breast, she might’ve been just another sailor. Lady deDieula helped her to stand, those wings somehow disappearing, but Dauriel just as quickly swept her into an embrace, preserving her modesty with her body. “What are you doing here?”
“I have to speak to you and Lady deDieula,” Tallora replied, her wife’s presence surreal. Dauriel smelled of sweat and salt and ocean spray, and Tallora wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Dauriel spoke, the words gently vibrating against Tallora’s body. “We’ll go to my quarters. Once we find my wife something to wear, we’ll discuss all of this in private.”
With every step, exhaustion settled, the reality that she’d swam for literal hours finally hitting her bones. She leaned against her wife, practically carried by the time they descended a set of stairs leading below deck.
The room they entered held small pieces of finery—a full bed, a dresser half-open, the drawers displaced by the waves, even a small window. One drawer glowed, and when Tallora peeked inside, she saw the orb unceremoniously laying among a pile of underclothes. Dauriel helped Tallora sit on the mattress, her smile soft when she spotted the ring around her neck. She grabbed a clean shirt and leggings. “I don’t have anything to better suit your taste.”
Tallora shook her head as she accepted the offering. “This is perfect.” As she slipped into the pants and loose shirt, she noticed deDieula gazing beyond the window, introspection in her distant stare.
“What has happened?” Dauriel asked, joining Tallora when she sat again upon the bed.
“A man from Moratham tried to kidnap me.” When Dauriel placed a protective hand against her waist, Tallora leaned into the touch. With each breath, her senses slowly caught up to her—here she sat below the deck of a ship, seeing her love again, about to deliver news that might be a death sentence. “Obviously he failed. But
there’s more. Moratham wanted to use me against you in the upcoming fight—there’s a ship here. Morathma himself will be joining Yu’Khrall.”
From the window, Lady deDieula frowned. Dauriel’s expression matched. “Explain.”
“Priestess Toria was an informant for Moratham. They know we’re coming, and Morathma intends to make certain Yu’Khrall won’t be defeated this time.”
Lady deDieula’s expression had darkened, her lavender gaze severe. “The only thing larger than his thick head is his hubris.”
“Priestess Toria, you said?” Dauriel asked.
“She was working for Moratham,” Tallora continued, and at that, deDieula turned and approached, intrigue twisting her frown. Tallora told the rest of the story—of the attempted kidnapping, of Leah’s tearful confession, and of Priestess Toria’s betrayal. “I had to say awful things for her to believe I was sincere,” Tallora whispered, guilt filling her at the memory. “Dauriel, my love, my wife, if she tries to use anything I said against me or you, please know it was all lies.”
Dauriel didn’t ask; she simply nodded and listened.
“But she’s in prison now. We have to focus on the threat at hand. Morathma will be there. I was the only one your father could send, since I can’t drown.”
Dauriel held her. Tallora might’ve drifted off to sleep, but Lady deDieula spoke. “I don’t fear Morathma. Perhaps this shall be the excuse my lady needed all along—to finally slay the Desert Sands.”
The darkness in her tone filled Tallora with a strange and familiar dread—though she struggled to name it. “Can we?”
“What are gods but angels with superiority complexes?” deDieula laughed, the sound lovely to hear but unnerving all the same. “Angels are immortal, but they can be killed. And while Dauriel was successful at removing Morathma’s host’s head and banishing him back to Celestière, I can tear out his soul.” Her gaze suddenly sharpened, a glower sneering her lip. “Still, the presence of Yu’Khrall does make that difficult.”
Tallora frowned. “You can tear out his soul?”