Dark Shores

by Danielle L. Jensen

  “No.” Teriana exhaled a long breath. “You are.”

  23

  MARCUS

  All sound had ceased.

  As had all motion.

  The fleet floated on still waters, nothing around them but the blue of ocean and sky, the sun sinking down toward the western horizon.

  They were trapped.

  Marcus sat on the steps to the quarterdeck, elbows resting on his knees and fragments of Teriana’s explanation of how to reach the xenthier stem skittering through his mind. He couldn’t seem to piece together what she’d said—it was though he were trying to remember something told to him years ago or something he’d heard in a barely understood language. Or something that made no sense at all.

  He was meant to be paying attention, to be giving orders, but the words demigod and blood ritual kept repeating themselves over and over in his head as he stared out over the vast expanse of ocean.

  He’d been wrong about Teriana. He’d believed she wouldn’t do anything that would put her crew’s lives at risk. But instead, in one fell swoop, she’d managed to defeat nearly ten thousand of the Empire’s soldiers without lifting a single weapon. Because they were all dead men. Destined to succumb to madness, to tear one another apart in desperate attempts to survive a few days longer.

  And when his men realized what had happened, they’d kill her first. Then probably him next.

  “You all right?”

  Marcus looked up to find Servius standing in front of him, and the sudden motion was just enough to tip his tenuous control. Shoving his friend out of the way, he staggered to the railing and proceeded to heave his guts into the sea.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Teriana’s voice sounded distant.

  “Seasick.”

  He could hear the two talking. Hear Servius giving the orders to batten down the hatches. More orders to send everyone not needed below. More tricks. She was planning something. An attack. Perhaps the Maarin had a way out and their plan was to kill the men aboard the Quincense and then leave the rest of the fleet here trapped.

  Twisting around, he struggled to keep his balance. “Stop!” The legionnaire holding the signal flags gaped at him, and Marcus snatched one of the flags out of his hand and threw it to the deck. “This is a trap.”

  “What are you going on about?” Teriana demanded. “I’m doing what you asked and now you tell me to stop? Did you lose your mind along with the contents of your guts over the side of the ship?”

  He tried to grab hold of her, but Servius’s hand clamped down on his arm. “Marcus, what’s going on?” he asked under his breath.

  “She duped us.” He tried to pull away, but Servius’s grip was implacable. “There’s no path—or if there is, she’s got no intention of revealing it.”

  Servius turned to Teriana. “Is that true? Did you lie to us?”

  Her eyes were a stormy grey. “I told him how to open the path—he just didn’t like my answer.”

  “Lies!” Marcus jerked out of Servius’s grasp and lunged at Teriana, but she scampered away. “She brought us here to trap us. To kill us.” He stalked her across the deck, but he felt wild and unsteady with fury and misery. Why had it come to this? Why did everything have to end in death?

  She tried to run to the railing, perhaps to leap overboard, but his men hemmed her in. He caught hold of her, knocking her to the deck and pinning her.

  “I’m not lying!” she screamed, struggling against him. “I can prove it—give me the chance to prove it.”

  “Do you have any idea how badly they’ll react when they find out you’ve doomed them?” he asked, letting his head drop so that he was whispering in her ear. “They’re going to kill both of us. And it won’t be an easy death. Not with these men.”

  “Marcus, don’t do this,” she pleaded. “I know you don’t believe—I know you think what I’m telling you is pagan madness, but you must trust me. You’ll see that I’ve told you the truth!”

  Her words were dull noise in his ears. Everything had been for naught. He’d thought he could get away from Cassius, thought he could save his family, thought he could save himself. He’d put all his coins on one roll of the dice and lost. It was time to pay up.

  “I’ll do it now,” he said, half to himself. “I’ll make it quick, and by the time they know why, it will be too late to hurt you any more.” The words were familiar, and her face blurred into that of a pale-skinned girl with inky dark hair.

  Marcus started to reach for a blade, but the thought of cutting her made him sick, so he reached for her neck instead. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Then droplets of seawater were raining down on him. His skin prickled, and without loosening his grip on Teriana he turned his head.

  And found himself face-to-face with a mouthful of teeth.

  An enormous serpentine creature had risen out of the water and was looming over the deck, its eyes filled with wrath.

  “Kill it!” Servius shouted, but before the men could respond, Marcus countered the order.

  “Hold!”

  “Magnius,” Teriana whispered, and when Marcus looked down, her eyes were glassy and alien. “He wishes to speak with the one who would request passage.”

  Marcus yanked his hands away from her and the creature snapped his teeth once before sinking back into the water. Scrambling to the railing, Marcus watched the sea serpent circle the ship, his gut filling with a primal fear.

  “I’m never going in the water again,” Servius said, blade in hand and face pale.

  Teriana shouldered her way next to him, her face streaked with tears though her eyes were dry.

  “Proof enough for you, Legatus?” she snapped. “This is Magnius, guardian to the Quincense, and scion of the goddess Madoria.” She watched the water, head tilted as though listening to an unheard voice. “If you wish passage, it is he whom you must ask. Will you speak with him?”

  “Yes.” The word came out as barely more than a croak, and though it was madness, he repeated, “Yes. I’ll speak to him.”

  He let her take the knife from his belt, knowing that she’d be within her right to stick it in his back. She pulled his left arm over the water and, without warning, sliced the blade across it. Blood and pain welled up from the gash, droplets raining down into the open mouth of the creature below.

  Marcus felt the first droplet hit. Felt his mind snap open, invaded and expanded at the same time.

  Who requests passage through the deeps?

  Marcus swallowed hard. The voice was clear as day inside his head, but he could tell from the reactions around him that no one else had heard. Except for Teriana. Her expression was cold, her grip tight on the knife handle. “Well?”

  “I do,” he said quickly. Then louder: “I request passage.”

  His men looked at him in surprise, then exchanged worried glances with one another.

  Silence.

  “He wants your name.” Teriana’s voice was toneless.

  He nodded once, watching the serpent swimming below. He could feel the creature in his head, and he suspected that he didn’t need to speak aloud for Magnius to hear him. But the idea of such a conversation ran counter to everything he knew. “I am Marcus, legatus of Celendor’s Thirty-Seventh Legion, and I request passage from the…” His voice faltered. “From the goddess Madoria.”

  He could feel the eyes of his men upon him—feel their astonishment at his words. He could only hope their judgment would be tempered by the creature in the water before them.

  I care not for titles and false names.

  The blood rushed from his face, and Marcus clenched the rail. How could it possibly know? was the first question that came to mind, but he immediately dismissed it. This thing called Magnius was in his head—he knew what Marcus knew. The second thought was whether the creature would give away his secret. He glanced at Teriana—her brow was furrowed and he could see the question in her eyes.

  “It is the only name I know. The other
I gave up when I was given to the legions.”

  Lies. You keep part of it with you. The voice was loud enough to hurt. Give me your name.

  He shook his head sharply. “No.”

  That is the price of passage.

  Marcus ground his teeth, his mind racing. How was it that a name was capable of causing him so much grief? Gaius Domitius was the name he’d been born to—the name he’d been called for the first eight years of his life. But for the past twelve, everyone had called him Marcus. It was what his friends called him. It was the name his men chanted at every victory. It was who he was. Everyone who knew him as otherwise had forsaken him. But he had not forgotten.

  Marcus straightened his shoulders. “I am Marcus Domitius, legatus of Celendor’s Thirty-Seventh Legion, and I ask the goddess Madoria for passage.” Some trick of the wind caught his voice, making it echo loud across the ship and sending it flying across the sea.

  It will be done.

  The serpent sank under the water, disappearing from sight. Marcus rounded on Teriana. “What happens now?”

  Her face was pale and grim. “We do our part. Send everyone belowdecks.”

  “You heard her!” he shouted. “Everyone belowdecks!”

  They obeyed, but he could see that they were looking at him with a new light. Would losing his anonymity change things? Would they treat him differently knowing that he was from one of the wealthiest and most influential families in all the Empire? He didn’t know.

  “You too,” he said to Servius, who hadn’t moved from his position at the rail.

  Servius shook his head. “If you’re losing your mind, I need to be here. But if what I think is happening is actually happening, then you need me here even more.”

  “Fine.”

  Teriana was shouting orders at her crew, who were all battening down the hatches. Polin rolled a massive drum onto the deck and fastened it down. He then proceeded to tie himself to the mainmast before calling Teriana’s name.

  She nodded once.

  The cook began pounding on the drums, the beat rhythmic and urgent. And the Maarin began to chant. Marcus didn’t know what they were saying, but there was no mistaking what their dark eyes and tight grips on ropes meant. It was going to be a rough ride.

  Wind lashed across the deck, in a gust made more violent by its long absence, every one of the Maarin crew stopping what they were doing to exchange worried looks even as the sun disappeared behind clouds that were gathering and blackening with unnatural speed. Lightning flickered across the sky, followed seconds later with a roar of thunder that drowned out the chanting sailors. Marcus stared skyward, fixated on the circling clouds. What was happening? How was any of this possible?

  “Bugger me cross-eyed,” Servius whispered. “Look at that.”

  Marcus tracked the direction the big legionnaire was pointing.

  The ocean was no longer still.

  Like the swift current of a deep river, the sea was moving, and it was pulling the ship with it. It gathered speed, tugging the Quincense along until the wind of their passage rivaled that of the storm. Marcus’s eyes stung as he tried to make out the other vessels against a sky that had grown black as night. From what he could tell, they were as caught up in the current as the Maarin ship. Turning his attention back to the ocean, he saw the water dip downwards, and he understood in an instant how the xenthier was reached.

  A whirlpool.

  The pace of the drumbeats increased.

  Wrenching his gaze from the widening mouth in the sea, Marcus searched the deck for Teriana. She was crouched to the side of the helm, her eyes wide and hands gripping the railing. He shouted her name, but the wind drowned him out. Dodging chanting sailors, he sprinted across the deck and up the stairs, shaking her shoulder to get her attention.

  “Something about this isn’t right!” he shouted into her ear. “I can see it on your face!”

  Teriana nodded. “The storm! Madoria has no influence over the weather. That is Gespurn’s domain.” She cast her face upward. “He doesn’t want us to pass!”

  Gespurn. The unfamiliar name rolled across Marcus’s mind, and he knew she was referring to another god. Less than a quarter hour ago, his mind would have balked, but that seemed ignorant now. There were forces at work that he didn’t understand—and if the Maarin wanted to give them names, so be it. “Can we stop it?”

  She shook her head. “This is between the gods. We are at their mercy.”

  Lightning lanced across the sky, bolt after bolt illuminating the darkness as they struck the sea. The Quincense was closest to the mouth of the whirlpool, lower already than the rest of the ships. A charge filled the air, making his skin crawl. Lightning streaked toward the ship, but before it could strike, a column of water shot into the sky to meet it. The two collided with a thundering boom, and steam jetted in all directions. It happened over and over—the sky attacking the ships and the sea rising each time in their defense.

  But one bolt struck home. Flames exploded from the rigging of one of the ships, and Marcus’s stomach plummeted when he recognized it as Felix’s. It was filled with Marcus’s men—men he had brought here. Men who were caught in this whirlpool of storm and terror because of him. “Please, no,” he said, the howling wind tearing away his words before anyone could hear them.

  Or perhaps not.

  A sheet of water rose next to the burning ship and slowly collapsed against her, extinguishing the flames. Thunder roared across the sky in a bellow of fury, and the clouds swirled and coalesced until an enormous face formed. The head turned, black eyes searching the seas until they latched on to the Quincense. A vortex of air formed a massive hand, and it reached for them, jostling the ship like a toy as it brushed the rigging.

  A familiar shout filled the air. Servius was dangling from the rail, feet hanging over the deadly water. Marcus moved to help his friend, but the god’s hand jarred the ship again, and he slipped and fell. “Servius!” he shouted. “Hold on!”

  Then Jax was at the rail, hauling Servius back on the deck, the Maarin sailor holding the big legionnaire steady until he found a rope to hang onto, then turning to spit curses as the hand reached through the sails once again.

  The Quincense circled faster, the whirlpool dragging them deeper into the sea. There was no way to escape the pull of the water. They were trapped by one god and about to be crushed by the fist of another.

  Motion caught Marcus’s attention. Teriana was standing, her face tilted to the sky, wind blowing her braids wildly. She shouted at the cloud god, but whatever she said was answered with a blast of thunder that rattled the rigging. The hand reached down and closed around her waist, lifting her off the deck.

  “No!” Marcus lunged, catching one of Teriana’s hands. But his weight made no difference to the god. Marcus’s arm strained as he was lifted off the deck, and he barely managed to catch hold of the rail with his other hand. His body screamed as he was stretched between Teriana and the ship.

  “You can’t have her!” he shouted, but the wind only tore at his face, snatching away his breath. He tried to suck in another, but he might as well have tried to breathe in sand. His heart hammered, his fingers slipping. Then water crashed against them, and both he and Teriana fell hard against the deck.

  Marcus didn’t waste time recovering. Clambering onto hands and knees, he pulled Teriana upright. “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head and pointed.

  A figure formed of water had risen out of the sea and was engaged in battle with the cloud god. It … she swung a sword made of ice and carried a shield of the same. Lightning flew from the fist of the cloud god, and it smashed against her defenses, sending frozen chunks hurtling into the water.

  Steam erupted from each blow, and a fragment of ice flew toward them. Marcus flung himself on top of Teriana. The ice slammed against the metal armor covering his shoulders and he collapsed against her. Her breath was hot and ragged against his cheek as he eased onto one forearm.

  �
��How much longer?” he shouted into her ear.

  She shoved him off and dragged him toward the side of the ship. It was hard to move, the circular force of their progress tugging them backward. Crawling, with fingers clawing against the boards of the deck, they finally made it. Marcus peered over the edge and into the twisting funnel of water below.

  He could see it. The glittering crystal of a xenthier stem so many times larger than any he had seen that it seemed wrong to call it by the same name. It sucked the water resolutely downwards, and it would only be minutes until the ship reached it. As he looked up, his guts twisted. They were farther below the surface of the ocean than he’d ever believed possible, the other ships arrayed like children’s toys above them. In the midst of it all fought the two gods, air and water doing battle against each other.

  The water goddess seemed to be holding her own when a funnel-shaped cloud descended, tearing her translucent shape apart. The cloud god surged past her, eyes black as the darkest night and hand growing in size as it reached toward the Quincense.

  “Hold on!” Teriana screamed, and the xenthier reared in front of them. Marcus caught hold of her and dragged her down onto the deck; then all sight was washed away by brilliant and blinding white light.

  24

  TERIANA

  Though she had passed through the ocean paths countless times, panic still took hold. Teriana felt nothing, not the planks beneath her knees, not Marcus’s hands where she knew they gripped her shoulders. There was no sight, no sound, no smell. It was as though her body had ceased to exist and all that was left was her mind.

  The ship shot out into the air, crashing down onto the surface of the sea with a spray of surf. Teriana’s skin stung and burned with pins and needles. She blinked against the brilliance of the early-morning sun and shoved Marcus away from her. He appeared dazed, but only for a moment. Then he was on his feet.

  “Sails up!” she shouted. “Get lines and boats ready. If any of the ships don’t make it intact, we’ll need to pick the survivors out of the water.”