by Chris Howard
The woman was short, undernourished thin, with long black hair, center parted, falling in two straight shiny sheets that would probably look the same wet or dry. She blinked at Nicole, and her blank, closed down expression smoothed into a faint smile, long guarded feelings unfolded, appeared in the relaxing of her shoulders, a long slow breath of air. She looked down at the offered hand, her own extending slowly, carefully.
Kassandra interrupted with, "Lady Nikoletta, may I introduce Agenika—Bachoris' sister."
Bachoris choked, shot up from the bench, hood flying off his face. He lost his balance, and would have gone backward over the side if Alex hadn't grabbed him.
Kassandra smiled, and added proudly to Agenika, "Lady Nikoletta is my sister." She pointed to Jill at the wheel. "And so is Lady Jillian."
Bachoris held on to Agenika, his shaking fingers clutching at her arm, tears spilling down his face with the rain, and when he smiled at Kassandra, mouthing "thank you" through the roar of wind, she bowed back to him, a little sad, whispering to no one but herself, "You could have just asked."
Nicole put a hand on her shoulder, leaned in, keeping her voice low. "So, where are we going?"
"We're going home, Nicole. It is time." She swung in close, hooking her arms around her, put her lips next to her ear, whispering something that made Nic's eyes go wide, pulling away, releasing her with a finger on her lips, "say nothing, dear sister. I just don't want you to faint or anything."
Nicole blew out a long breath, closed her mouth, and looked away at the raging sea.
Kassandra stepped across the deck as if it wasn't heaving and yawing like a wild animal, right up to Jill. She hugged her, held on to her, whispering, "I will come get you, my beautiful, blinding sunshine, when I can. Next week probably, no more than that. My sisters must be there for the coronation. Before that I have business to attend to, then I will show you the Nine-cities. A personal tour." She leaned back, slid one finger up Jill's cheek to catch a tear as it spilled through her lashes, then put it gently on her tongue, took it inside her mouth as if storing it for later. Then bowed deeply to her. "Thank you."
She spun, hopped forward to the roof over the door leading below decks, landed in a crouch, straightened and strolled up the boat's center, and hugged Michael Henderson. Then stepped away, and bowed low to him.
Kassandra turned, singing into the storm, reached up and caught a dripping wad of what looked like thick folded material, a dark spiral weave of fire orange threaded through it. She shook it out, a long shirt and leggings of the same dark material. She hung it over her left forearm, reached up with her right and caught a sword with a satisfying slap in her hand.
She turned and hopped back to the deck, handing the sword to Kaffia, and yanking the raincoat off Alex without asking. She handed him the leggings. "Pull them on. I'll show you how to tie them." She turned her head as if hearing something in the solid roar of the storm, reached out and caught a slim gold circlet. She slid it over his head so that a crescent with the points down hung in the center of his forehead. Her fingers worked his short hair into knots, holding the ring against his head. "You don't want to lose this," she commented to Kaffia. "Help Alex get the armor on. Snaps run up the front, pull the rings loose along his back. Those are for the sword."
Kaffia stared at her a moment, and then swung the armor top over Alex's shoulders, guiding his arms into the sleeves. They were long, reaching across the backs of his hands, five knobby black plates sticking out to cover his knuckles. Once in place, it fit perfectly, tailor perfect.
Kassandra helped with the snaps, then looked over at Zypheria, waving her over. "Bring me the book, Zyph."
She took the thick Telkhines book in the both hands, holding it out reverently. "Alexandros Lord Telkhines, I present to you, Nastaros, word guardian, may he teach you far more than he thinks he knows." She placed it in his hands, face up, the same downward crescent in gold on the cover.
She bowed to Alex, took a step back and bowed again to Elizabeth Shoaler. "My lady, please honor my sisters and I by accepting my invitation to the coronation of the next ruler of all the seaborn." She held out one hand, open, palm up, and a flat silvery line of fire drew in the air, square, triangles, tracing the folds and seal of an envelope. The fire raced the edges and burned out, leaving a flat metallic paper rectangle.
Elizabeth hesitated and picked it up, pulled it close to stare at it, and then slipped it inside her raincoat. "I will come, Lady of the Sea. Gladly."
Bachoris looked at Kassandra, haunted, his soul open to her, spilling out, an hour glass shattered, emptying its contents through her hands. I am damned, Kassandra. I did everything I could to hurt you...and you bring back Agenika, you erase my debt to Akastê. You are—
She glared back. I killed Akastê. She—all of her—is no more. I erased her, not your debt.
He swallowed dryly with all the rain in the air. Your kindness is painful. Why have you done this for me? Why do you act as if you are still in love with me?
You were not the only one at the dining room table who has tried to do me in, Bachoris. Don't flatter yourself. And I love everyone at that table. She choked on the thoughts. Loved everyone at that table. And as I said at the party, you will have a hand in the ending of my reign, dear—well, not really your hand. Kassandra smiled more to herself than to him, a deep and personal smile. Bachoris, I am pregnant.
He locked his knees to stay on his feet, eyes going wide, ran the water from his hair with his fingers. He gripped his sister harder, staring back at Kassandra, and shook his head. The rain was running down his face, off his chin. He gave her a shaky smile.
The corners of her mouth sharpened, her fingers sliding over the blue-seamed plates of armor between her hips. It's a girl, Bachoris, and she is immortal. I'm going to name her Poseidonis, and I will give her my crown when the time is right. She will be the end of my reign.
Kassandra bowed and side stepped to Kaffia, paused, and then pulled her into a hug, whispering for her ears, "I will not allow anything to happen to your Alex, Kaffia. He is safe with me, but I need him at my side when I seize the city, the Nine-cities of the Thalassogenêis. The mirror I gave you at the party. Use it to call him, sing his name, and he will come to you from any point in this world, from any depth." She pulled back, speaking louder. "But that is only a short term solution—just for the next couple weeks. I want you at the coronation at Alex's side."
Kaffia held her eyes, her muscles going rigid, then loosened at something Kassandra showed her. Her frown sharpened into a smile. "Sure."
Kassandra stepped in front of Alex, her tone going flat and direct. "Mr. Shoaler. I need you to understand something. I'm going to eat this storm, take it with us into the depths. Never mind why. I will dive into the sea, and after the first high wave, you and my sister and Zypheria will dive in after me. Wait for the wave. Then get in the water. I will pick you up from there." She pulled the collar on his armor closed, locked it.
Turning to Zypheria, "You will guard Alex as if he was me."
"I understand, milady." Zypheria bowed back, her crossbow swinging under her arm.
"Say your goodbyes."
With a nod, Kassandra wheeled and sprinted up the port side to the bow, hooked the rail with her toes and flew ten meters into the air. Her legs flipped vertical, one hand straight out, fingers pointed. She pulled the other back for a punch and drove her fist into the sea.
Then she was gone, deep into the water.
The sea went flat like glass, a sharp expanding ring that cleared two meters beneath Stormwind's hull and keel. Alex gripped the book under one arm, spun, following Kassandra's motion, mountainous waves crushed flat, and above them, perfect blue sky, dark clouds sucked into the sea, walls of gray receding in every direction, miles of storm cleared in seconds.
Then Stormwind hit the Atlantic hard, a short free fall for everyone on board, and they hit the deck. Michael Henderson slipped off the smooth rounded cabin shell, and narrowly avoided going over
the rail.
Alex caught his mother. Zypheria spun, long braids whirling with her speed, a slow motion dash to catch Jill, a meter in the air, her toes over her head, arms out at odd angles. She twirled into the water off the stern with a chopped off scream.
Kassandra looked up, raised one hand, flattened out her fingers in a wave. Jill was face down in the water, eyes open wide, arms out to catch her fall. The motion of the world seemed to slow, the roar of the storm and rush of Kassandra's spell cut to silence. Jill focused, found her sister ten meters under her, falling deeper, looking up...smiling and waving slowly at her.
Kassandra pulled her hand to her mouth, kissed and blew it into the water, and Jill felt the contact on her cheek, a soft pressure that lingered.
Clark Gerdes dropped his coffee mug. It shattered on the plastic tiled floor, spraying coffee, painting the cuffs of his khakis darker brown. He tried to warn someone. He pointed at the realtime satellite feed, overlaid Doppler, direct imagery. A perfect circle of clear sky cut through the opaque whirl of the nor'easter raging off the coast of New England.
Like someone scooped it out with an ice-cream scoop.
He stared at the screens, blood pounding hard in his ears, started breathing again. Then he heard the excited chatter of others who had spotted the clearing in the storm's center, the clean carved out core of one of the season's worst nor'easters, leading winds banging against the coast for hours, the center of rotation just off the coast of New Hampshire and southern Maine. Something was cutting a hole out of the center.
An ice-cream scoop.
Clark Gerdes found his voice and it came out in an awed whisper. "Not from this world."
Kassandra glanced away from Jill, her gaze level with her depth, a look of concern replacing her smile. She jabbed a finger at her sister, pointing up. At that moment, Zypheria reached into the sea and yanked Jill out of the water, pulling her aboard Stormwind.
And that's when the storm came back in a different form.
The roll of seawater started at the horizon, glistening bands of light and blue sky reflection, massive rounded hills of black water closing in on all sides. Seawater running off her, Jill jumped into action, spun Stormwind's wheel, heading up the fifty meter high swell, into the toroidal flow of ocean curling in on itself, roaring at them. She screamed at Michael Henderson to give her more cloth.
"She said a wave, which wave?" Alex went to the rail, looking into the depths, then out at the horizon rising up around them. "Holy shit." He lost his footing and caught the railing, pulling the book tighter against his side.
Nicole grabbed Alex by the sword latched to the back of his armor. "Wait for it, sailor." She pointed along the bow. "Jill's going to get us over that hump of water, and then we're out of here."
Kaffia came to his side, taking his arm to spin him for a few words and a goodbye hug from his mother. Then she hugged and kissed him, told him not to get hurt. He fell into Kaffia, grabbing the rail as Stormwind climbed the steep mountain of water, crested the top and then sped down the far side.
The massive ring of water came together where Kassandra had gone in, all sides joining, curling with a sound like thunder. It coiled inside itself. All the rage of the storm folded into the depths and vanished.
The Atlantic was calm to the horizon.
Zypheria stepped up, kissed Michael, and went straight over the side, all knives and blades, and the crossbow hanging from her shoulder. Nicole gave Kaffia a second longer with her goodbye kiss, and then shoved Alex over the side, diving in right after him with a quick smile and nod to Jill.
Something human-shaped, a blur of silvery claws, teeth, ink smear eyes, caught Nicole and Zypheria in its arms, and pulled them deep. A moment later, Kassandra swung in fast beneath Stormwind, snapped up Alex, and they were gone, ripping through the water, a flash of Alex's pale feet. Then nothing but soft lapping waves, dark blue in every direction.
Chapter 32 - The New Dead Army
"Do not be afraid," Kassandra whispered in Alex's ear.
The ocean was dark and cold against his face, icy gel oozing down his nose, smeared over his eyelids; his spiky orange hair that normally stood on end was pressed down around his head, and the tiny knots of it holding the gold circlet pulled at his scalp.
He tried to open his eyes, to turn to look at her. He gave up. "Of what? That giant watery demon-looking thing?"
"Ochleros? No, he's a total sweety. No, do not be afraid of my beautiful dead army."
There was a bubbling disturbance in his stomach, something about the speed and thick chill fluid against his skin making him sick. He tried not to focus on illness, and instead pondered an army that was beautiful, one of knights in steel armor blazing gold in the dawn sunlight, cresting a hill, lances raised, stern dark eyes surveying the field, ready to charge, thunder down the slope, meet the enemy, shatter their line, perhaps die for their cause. And then he wondered how an army can be both dead and beautiful, the two ideas circling in his thoughts, glaring and snapping at each other, not getting along.
"No way," he whispered.
The cold seeped out of his hair, slipped off his face, he opened his eyes, and the two ideas, dead and beautiful, slapped together, coiling into one, and hurt his head.
The dead army stood in formation before the walls of the Nine-cities of the Thalassogeneis, thousands of them, lined up evenly, perfectly, beautifully. And they were dead, all of them, dead tissue clotting in the joints of their rot-blackened bones, threads of tendon and cartilage filling the spaces between the ribs, hanging off their knees. Something else kept them wired together, held them upright, made them curl the arrangement of hand bones around the shafts of spears. Every dead warrior wore armor, a black metallic hauberk of smooth square plates.
And every dead warrior was bound to Kassandra's will. She soared through the water over the ranks, holding Alex under her because he was throwing up—the army of the dead, the taste of them in his mouth, muscles clenching, seizing everything in his stomach and shoving it acid-burning up his throat.
"They really are awful, aren't they?" Kassandra gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Do not drop the book. We will need that shortly."
She somersaulted in the water at the head of the army, swinging to face her army, yelling for them to close ranks, form into one column four abreast.
Then Kassandra spun in the water, planted her feet in the sand, facing the massive city gates, two giant doors, each the height of a five story building, and nearly as wide. She let out a long breath of water, annoyed at finding them closed and locked against her.
Ochleros set down in the plain next to Kassandra, his massive watery arms circling Zypheria and Nicole protectively. And Alex drifted down to the sand between them, swinging around to face the army, then back to the city, unable to decide where to focus, what to watch.
Zypheria helped him out, pointing out the city walls. She drew her sword and hovered next to him.
Kassandra held up her fist, a gray lightning filled humming ball of energy in her fingers, the entire storm from the surface compressed into one blob of power.
There were thousands of soldiers lined up along the towering walls of the Nine-cities, orcas and riders, phalanxes of spearmen, mostly from House Dosianax, but Kassandra noticed a contingent from her own House Alkimides right over the gate.
She pointed up at them, saying politely in a loud clear voice, "I would move off there if I were you. I'll give you a minute." She shifted the storm to her left, peeling off a strip of it, which she wadded up in her right. "Then I'm going to take down the gates."
There were shouts, orders passed, battle cries, taunts and questions thrown down to her. One she heard repeated made her smile. "Who are you?" A few others yelling, "Who do you think you are?"
She braced her feet apart, looked up at the defenders of the seaborn, smiled like a shark. "I'm the big bad wolf."
She over-handed the heavy roiling ball of storm at the front gates.
There was silence, th
en a sheet of light painted the massive doors, splattered bolts of storm rolling, hitting and burning through rock, metal, everything they touched. The doors flew into hundreds of sharp fragments, bending, molten-edged angles, carved stone framing, bracing of other materials tumbled into the open space in the city's wall, more light splashing, electric lines carving up the face of the gatehouse.
Orcas scattered in clouds of sand, commanders shouting directions, pulling their forces off the walls to make a stand in the boulevard wide gap. More rock, bricks, giant foundation slabs rolled and rumbled as a large section of the wall fell to the seafloor.
Kassandra grinned through the silt. "Told you I would." Then she peeled off another strip of storm, rolled it in her fingers, brought her arm back and hurled it high over the wall. The storm unraveled in the water, hitting the King's Protection in a long twisting band of blue fire, a sharp rock against glass slap, and lightning fractures ran to the apex. The army of the seaborn, kicked away, fleeing the walls, the streets, the wide open gap full of rubble and the broken panels of the gates.
Kassandra tilted her head sideways, trying to catch the last fading sheen of Helios's Twin off the King's Protection. The clear dome shuddered and bulged, wobbling like gelatin, ripples of uneven thicknesses in the spell rolling along the base. Then it popped like a bubble, glistening dust carried off in the currents.
And the Nine-cities of the Thalassogenêis was defenseless, open to any army from the seafloor, from the open sea, from anywhere. Kassandra smiled a bit cruelly, a ripple of fear sliding up her arms, and the back of her neck—not her own fear. She felt the panic of thousands of seaborn, a tremble in the ocean.
Kassandra swallowed, cleared her throat, and threw off the chill skin-tingling feeling. She kicked forward, raised her hand to signal her army, and with a rush and thud sound like thunder recorded and played backward, three thousand dead soldiers took their first step toward the city. A roll of thunder. Then another. The ground shook. Another step.