Seaborn 03 - Sea Throne

by Chris Howard

  "I know how dangerous the Kirkêlatides can be. You are wise to be cautious." Ochleros bowed back, drifting into the waves, heading north.

  Kassandra stood in the waves up to her chin, boredom setting in, bouncing off the sand for two hours, waiting for Alex Shoaler to wake up.

  "Come on," she whispered. "Wake up, Alexandros."

  The moon dropped behind the row of beach houses, and a pale glow appeared in the east before something finally happened.

  Alex flopped onto his stomach, groaning, went still for another ten minutes, and then lifted his head, spitting sand from his mouth. He tried to move onto his back but the AUV had rolled against him, wedged between his hip and the beach.

  "What the...?" He crawled to his knees, shoving the heels of his palms against the sand, and then in one motion, swung around into a sitting position.

  Kassandra ducked under the waves, her braids floating around the top of her head.

  Alex rubbed the sand from his hands and pressed them against the sides of his head, trying to stop the ache drumming through his skull. "That was...wild." He said the words automatically, not knowing what "that" referred to, or why he considered it "wild."

  Kassandra rose in the surf until her eyes were above it, watching Alex get to his feet. He stood yawning and then tucked the four-foot AUV under one arm. He threw a look over his shoulder before he climbed the concrete steps over the storm wall, his eyes scanning the horizon. Kassandra went under, waited a few minutes, and when she surfaced, Alex Shoaler was gone.

  He walked home, stumbling over thick tufts of seagrass, stubbing his toes on the rounded boulders that lined the sandy walkway between the houses. He and his mother lived right on 1A—Ocean Boulevard—in a tiny two-bedroom winterized cottage. He pushed open the back gate, found the hidden key above the doorframe, and let himself in.

  His mother had left a light on in the kitchen for him, and he grabbed a Coke from the fridge, before heading to his bedroom, where he shoved everything off his desk except his computer. Without bothering to change, he set down his miniature submersible, uncapped the interface, and jacked the AUV into the log transfer app he had written.

  Kneeling on the chair, elbows on the desktop, he leaned into the screen, shaking his head, rolling the data up and down in the window.

  "Now that's..."

  He scrolled through the final rows of logged data, all of it from today, and going from sea level to well over two-thousand meters, and nearly halfway across the Atlantic Ocean. In a space of four hours, his autonomous underwater vehicle made of PVC piping with an oil-filled over-pressured interior had been halfway to England, traveling at depths greater than six thousand feet.

  "...odd."

  He rubbed his eyes, leaning against his thumb and forefinger in exhaustion, and the dream of the book came to him again. Kassandra with her long brown hair in braids opened the door, beckoning him inside. She smiled at him, but for the first time, out of all the times he'd dreamed of her, he felt afraid to enter.

  Chapter 13 - Mortal

  Bachoris, "Beach Guy," Mr. Sandman looked...nervous. Kassandra gave him a teasing smile, and slid enough water across her eyes to catch pink neon smears off the coffee shop's menu board.

  She had squeezed into the tightest shirt she could find, sheer fuchsia, spaghetti straps, riding above her naval, low shorts, nothing else but the jingling of metal and seashells at her wrist and ankle.

  Nicole had stopped her in alarm on the way out. "I can see your nipples."

  She shrugged. "Only so many threads of thought to go around in anyone's head. I can keep a couple of Bachoris' busy." She'd let her fingers glide over her breasts, down along her waist, to play with the top of her shorts.

  Nicole had given her an angry stare, hand on her hip, breathing hard, cutting words piling up in her mouth, unsaid.

  "What? I'm going for coffee. I'm not going to pull them down and ride him in the middle of Christine's Beans."

  "That's what it looks like."

  "And that's the point." She'd left with Nicole grinding her teeth and flexing her fists.

  Bachoris stood as she approached—the gentleman, but Kassandra waved him back into his seat, pulling out her own chair, crossing her legs, kicking her foot to make her anklet ring.

  He slid a full cup of black coffee aside as if he'd just noticed it, and it was in the way.

  The coffee wasn't hot. Been waiting a while for me, then.

  Bachoris didn't appear to notice her nipples. He leaned halfway across the table, locking eyes. "Kassandra. Tell me how you know about my sister, my dear Agenika."

  She stared at him, took in his words, the spaces between them laced with sorrow, a raw humming current of betrayal.

  She swallowed the lie she had prepared. "One of my ancestors, Strates Unwinder." She pointed to her head and his eyes narrowed, shifted to focus on her fingertip pressed to her temple. "He knew her, two fellow prisoners of Akastê the Erratic One, and Agenika told him of her brother Bachoris, how much she missed him. How much she wanted to go home."

  "This Strates Unwinder is inside you? Are there others?"

  "Several, including King Eupheron, two bleeds, half Telkhines half Alkimides. He's looking at you right now—the only one who can see through my eyes." She didn't add that he was making cooing noises and telling her how beautiful Bachoris' eyes were.

  She slid out of her chair, crossing the room before she said anything else. "We want coffee. You want another cup?" She turned to order two before Bachoris could answer, and returned to the table with them, sliding his across the surface.

  His fingers touched hers when he took it, and he jerked away, sloshing coffee over the lip, a dark pool in his saucer.

  Kassandra froze. "What is it?"

  Bachoris reached over and pushed her coffee aside. "May I see your hands?"

  Not both, said Andromache in her thoughts. She placed her left flat on the table, and he let his fingers glide over the top, starting at her wrist. He whispered, "I wasn't expecting..."

  "What?"

  His fingers were cool, smooth, doctor's hands on her skin.

  "What are doing?"

  When he didn't answer, her right hand shot out and grabbed his wrist just as he was pulling it away. She yanked him across the table, turning his palm up, twisting his arm. His whole body followed. The first cup of coffee hit the floor, shattering, sharp wedges of china, cold splatter against her legs. People were staring.

  She stood, legs braced apart and caught his throat in her other hand, her nails digging into soft skin and cartilage. She slammed his head against the wood surface, leaned in, her mouth almost touching his, her voice low cold. "What game are you playing, Bachoris. I know what you are. I can feel your heart, the blood in your veins, the fluid in every layer of tissue in your body, but not the heat, not the life. You aren't alive like the rest of us. You are deathless."

  "Immortal," he whispered. "I didn't mean to anger you. Please let me up."

  A man in an apron appeared next to Kassandra, and she released Bachoris. She grabbed the offered towel. "Thank you. He'll clean up his mess."

  Bachoris leaned back in his chair, rubbing his throat. "It's just..."

  Kassandra shifted around the table, wringing the towel, ready to attack, her voice knife sharp. "Just what?"

  "You are not."

  She threw the towel at him, folding her arms, while he kneeled to pick up the pieces of the cup, wiped the coffee off the tiles. The man in the apron took everything away, and they sat down again, elbows on the table, glaring at each other.

  "No. I am not."

  "But why aren't you?"

  Kassandra closed her eyes, resting her forehead against her fist. "Why would I tell you, Bachoris? You wouldn't understand."

  They met in Hampton the following night, walked along the beach, Bachoris—with his old fashioned courting manners—asking to hold her hand, and she let him, only letting go to roll up her sleeves. Nicole had told her that she would stalk them
, follow them, become a nuisance if Kassandra left the house wearing anything less than jeans and a sweatshirt.

  Bachoris looked over at her. "You're tense, Kassandra."

  She squeezed his hand. "So are you."

  He let go, jogging ahead, turning to face her. He walked backward along the ocean wet sand. "Tell me."

  "No."

  He shrugged, smiling. "Come on. Let's walk along the street."

  She tilted her head toward the Atlantic. "Let's get wet."

  "I can't."

  "Get wet?"

  "I lost Agenika to Akastê."

  "She is not the Sea. Never was. A pretender. You have nothing to fear when you are with me." She twirled her fingers and her crown flashed into existence, a beacon like a lighthouse's beam.

  Cars were slowing down along Ocean Boulevard; people strolling on Hampton Beach stopped to stare at her, holding their hands up to block the light.

  He covered his eyes, turned away with something like pain in his expression, and jumped the low wall to the sidewalk. She glanced over her shoulder at the ocean, let her crown fade away, and then followed him, slapping his hand as she dashed by him.

  Kassandra froze a few strides ahead, scanning the crowd along Ocean Boulevard, her gaze stopping on a tall woman with long black braids walking toward her.

  Bachoris rested a hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"

  "That's the king's war-bard, Theoxena of the Kirkêlatides."

  "Really? Wow." Thick sarcasm in his voice.

  Kassandra shrugged him off. "Come on. Let's go."

  "Why?"

  "It's not the right time to confront her."

  Bachoris grabbed her hand, twining his fingers with hers. "Forget about confronting. Let's just stare at her, make funny faces." He stuck his tongue out and squinted one eye at Theoxena.

  Kassandra caught the war-bard's gaze and then looked over at Bachoris. She had to hold in laughter. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Come on, stare at her and stick your finger up your nose, twirl it."

  "I don't think so."

  "Look. She's wondering what we're up to."

  "No." Kassandra turned to level her gaze at Theoxena. "She thinks you're a freak."

  "She knows what I am. She can feel it from there. She knows what you are. I say we have a bit of fun with her." Bachoris let go of her hand, stuck his thumbs in his mouth, pulled his lips wide and used his fingers to bend his ears forward, making them flop alternately. He jumped forward, stamping his foot and Theoxena twitched, backed up a step. "Wow. A descendent of the great Kirkê. Made her hop."

  Theoxena looked over her shoulder, waited for a car to pass, and then hurried across the street.

  "The Lords and Ladies aren't happy, Theoxena of the Kirkêlatides. No, we're not. The Sea and the Sand do not want you meddling where you do not belong." Bachoris gave her a jolly goodbye wave. "Yeah, you better walk away. Keep walking, string strumming bitch of the sea."

  Kassandra stared at Bachoris, corners of her mouth sharp, halfway to laughing. "Who are you?"

  His stupid grin faded when he turned back to her, his expression going serious. He held her eyes; the dark skin around his crinkled a little with mirth. He bowed his head. "Your opposite, milady. As the sea is yours, so the dry sand, the waterless winds, the desert is mine—not all of them, but I have quite a large one all to myself. I am its lord. A minor rank compared to you, but a lord nonetheless."

  Nicole accompanied them the next night, strolling along, doing an admirable job of concealing her desire to cut off Bachoris' head when he reached for Kassandra's hand, muttering, "If he kisses her I'll hit him."

  They sipped coffee, ate sushi at Shizuko's, and walked along Hampton Beach, all the way to Great Boars Head and back. Bachoris talked about New York City, bond trading, some of the immortals he knew, their powers, their wishes.

  Kassandra shoved him toward the Atlantic with her shoulder. "And how are you going to get your sister back from Akastê? Why haven't you tried?"

  He slowed his pace. "I have tried. And failed. Many times. Akastê is an ancient. I am young and no match for her—and she has Agenika, makes her suffer for my mistakes. I cannot win against the Erratic One."

  Kassandra nodded, thoughtfully chewing the inside of her lip.

  Bachoris looked over and stopped, and gave her a pleading look. He saw it in her eyes. She was going to offer to help him, and he could not allow it. Then he would not be able to return cruelty. Her lips opened. He cut her off. "I don't believe you can help me." He was shaking. He looked her in the eyes, and there was doubt about her strength in them. "Because you aren't immort—"

  A stiff jab from Kassandra just above the hip, a kick behind the knees, and Bachoris collapsed. She stood over him, enraged, breathing hard. "Do not say anything about that, not again."

  Behind her the dry sand came up like ropes, coiling tight up her jeans to her thighs. Kassandra looked down, startled, and sang a note. The Atlantic roared. She turned to call for its help, then stopped the voice in her mouth when Nicole cartwheeled over her, above her head, out of hand's reach, a sword in her fist. Kassandra gestured to the ocean, but did not command it.

  Both hands on the grip, the blade across Bachoris' throat, Nicole leaned her weight into a thrust-ready stance. "You have three seconds to call them back or I'll take your head and hang it in the backyard with the wind chimes. One. Two..."

  The sand drifted off with the sea wind, slid loosely down Kassandra's legs, a mound gathering at her ankles.

  Nicole let Bachoris up, but held her sword ready. Kassandra forgot about Bachoris, breathing deeply, staring wide-eyed. She grabbed Nicole by the shoulders, knocked the weapon aside, and hugged her sister tight. "You have it. Why didn't you tell me?"

  Nicole pulled away, pointed her sword at Bachoris, her hand shaking in rage. "I didn't know. I just wanted to kill this suspicious fuck. And then I was swimming in the air with my sword." She jumped at Bachoris and he stepped back. "That's right. You touch her and I'll cut your fucking balls off, sandy man."

  "I'm so happy you have the bleeds and can use them, but now isn't the time."

  Nicole looked stunned, shaking her head. "What are you talking about?" She lowered the sword.

  "Nicole, please. Go home."

  Nicole didn't look away from Bachoris. "I'm not leaving without you, Kass."

  "Yes. You are. Now go." Kassandra pointed down the beach, a command like thunder in her voice. "Go."

  Nicole's shoulders dropped. The sword vanished in her hand, and she backed up, stumbling to the sand. "Why?"

  "This isn't your business, Nic. Just go."

  "Your safety is my business."

  "No it isn't, Lady Nikoletta. I may have led you to believe that, but you are far more than someone's bodyguard, and I don't want you here right now."

  Kassandra turned away so she wouldn't have to see her sister's shudder at the use of her formal noble name. She felt it in the sea air. "Please."

  Nicole straightened and walked away, occasionally looking back to see if Kassandra was following. She didn't.

  Bachoris waited for Nicole's figure to fade into the distance. "That was close." He tried for a faint smile. It failed against Kassandra's anger. He bowed his head. "Your sister is more powerful than I would have thought."

  "Both of them are."

  Bachoris stared down the beach. "Whose bleed does she have?"

  Kassandra made a growling noise, the low rumble of the ocean hollowing out the earth. "You and your damn questions. It's bad enough to ask it of me. Do not bring up your abnormality in front of my sisters." She reached for Bachoris, her arm out straight, fingers hooked into a rigid claw. He flipped in the air, feet sticking straight up, and flew into her grasp. She pulled him close, his arms pinned to his sides. "Let me see if I can answer your question, Mr. Sandman." She yanked him closer and sucked in a breath, emptying his lungs. "Your dear sister is in prison and you can wait a thousand years for her. What do you know of longing or
sorrow or loss? Nothing. You immortals wouldn't understand." She dug her fingers in harder. "My sisters have my bleeds. I would rather grow old and die with them than leave them behind. I gave up my immortality so that my sisters can share in my power. I have the crown of the ruler of all the oceans. I am the Sea. I have five bleeds. I am nothing without my sisters."

  She gave him back his breath and dropped him in the sand.

  Gasping for air, he held up one open hand. "I'm sorry, Kassandra."

  "I don't want sorry—or nonsense about missing your sister. You would do anything to get her back if she really meant something to you. You would kill anyone, betray anyone, move the foundations of this world to get her back. I want you to try to understand what my sisters mean to me, Bachoris. Now get up and walk me home. If you ask me one more question tonight, you will never see me again."

  Chapter 14 - Barenis

  The dragon shot straight down to the Atlantic's floor, a sharp snap that ran from the middle of her back, along the length of her tail. It nearly catapulted Nikasia free. A blur of mountain shapes, a row of rocky teeth, and the dragon tilted on her side, shoveling mud and boulders over her back.

  Nikasia closed her eyes and hung on, teeth rattling, fingers bleeding, curling tighter over ridges along the monster's back. A stone the size of her head slammed into the scales between her open legs. Another smaller chunk of rock hit her just above her left ankle, snapped the tibia.

  Safe to say the dragon knows I'm here.

  Nikasia squeezed another healing theme into her song, and felt tendons and tissue burn with regeneration; tears blurring her vision with the new growth. The splinters of bone in her lower leg fused with a dull ache at the core. Pain accompanies all birth. So they say.

  She moved up the dragon's back, fingernails clawing for a new hold, the spikes in her back opening wounds, a hot wash down her body. Now she was getting angry, the weakness in her muscles, the shiver in her hands building toward an obvious all-for-nothing end.