Constant

by Lexi Ander

  “Alpha?” Mestor was at a loss for words.

  “We have seen it, too.”

  “Do you know how?”

  Alpha was silent for a couple of heartbeats. “I have a theory, but I am not sure if my deduction is correct. I will have to speak to my other young.”

  Mestor wanted to pry like a nosy adolescent but refrained, barely. Instead, he watched with his family as Matsya taught the twins an abbreviated version of camouflage and hunt.

  Mestor closed his heavy eyelids, not intending to sleep, but he did, waking to a scuffing sound. The lights had been dimmed, but he was not alone. Pallets and pillows had been moved to the center of the room. There were more people, aunts and uncles, members of Zeus’s household were settling in for the night. A silhouette headed toward Mestor and he smiled, knowing Sohm’lan’s form anywhere. His amor grabbed his cushions and pulled him away from the pool’s edge next to Kryp and Matsya, both snoring softly.

  When Sohm’lan lay on his own pillows, Mestor rolled, draping an arm and leg over his amor, inhaling the heady mix of pheromones.

  He listened to his family settle in for the night, the soft murmur of conversation adding to the calm that had descended over him. There came a point when one put aside planning and concerns. Tomorrow would be a day of action with Sohm’lan facing Nethus in the gyre circle, but Mestor was not foolish enough to waste these hours of rest. He looked forward to diving into the coming chaos, and he fell asleep, a smile playing on his lips at the thought of spilling blood on the morrow.

  Sohm’lan

  * * *

  Even though he had gone to sleep late, Sohm’lan still woke with the rising sun. Sometime in the night, Matsya had crawled onto his chest, snuggling with him and Tori. He had to have been sleeping hard not to awaken with her movements.

  He remained still, enjoying Matsya’s snuffling snores and Tori’s alluring scent. Kryp slept on his stomach, face practically smothered in a fuchsia-tasseled pillow. Even in sleep, Kryp’s antennae moved.

  Sohm’lan had known that with Valdor’s retirement, his own would come soon afterward. It was the way of the Mar’Sani, to move on to a new endeavor after a period of time. A summer ago, just thinking about it had made him feel disconcertingly adrift, at a loss over what he would do next. He had been fighting and protecting all his life. His first job cleaning the streets with the other youths his age, even then, he fought to keep the street toughs from claiming his work as their own.

  Tori’s breathing changed as he woke. Sohm’lan watched those sunrise-yellow eyes he adored flutter open and take in the dimly-lit surroundings. Then Tori’s gaze turned to Matsya, who used his arm for a pillow. The way Tori’s gaze warmed with love made Sohm’lan’s heart squeeze. He vowed his amor would have more young. Especially when Tori’s expression turned shy and vulnerable when he noticed Sohm’lan watching. He treasured the look, ecstatic to see this side of Tori, giving Sohm’lan a precious glimpse into the core of his amor.

  He did not know how long they remained there staring at each other like love-addled adolescents, but all too soon, the others roused, signaling the day’s start. First-meal would be served shortly, and he wanted to wash before then. Looking over to Kryp, the Dire D’Noss was not as asleep as Sohm’lan had believed. The one eye not covered by the pillow was watching him knowingly. Without Sohm’lan needing to say anything, Kryp rose, stretched, and carefully picked up Matsya, who slept so hard she did not even move.

  The four of them left the grand family room, making plans to meet back up to eat. Then Sohm’lan dragged Tori into their suite, releasing pheromones, sensually sliding their scales together as he maneuvered them to the lavatory. He paid attention to every span of scale, every hitched breath Tori took, and wrang every drop of pleasure from his amor. When he finally moved away, Tori sprang. Sohm’lan loved Mestor’s determination to pay him back in kind.

  Afterward, Sohm’lan dressed in his uniform and laid out the harness and weapons he would wear to sea. He paused in the sleeping chamber doorway. Tori knelt in front of the altar, lighting an incense stick and speaking in a gruff tone. “I promise to protect him, Niobe, and bring him back home alive.”

  He backed up and crossed to the windows overlooking the sea, feeling as if he had accidentally eavesdropped on a private conversation. Tori showed a level of dedication to Niobe’s memory that moved Sohm’lan.

  “Are you ready?” Tori asked from the entry. The vulnerable lover was replaced by the seasoned warrior. A pity there was no time for another ravishing.

  The grand family room had been transformed into a banquet hall. The tables laden with an abundance of food permeated the air with enticing scents. With a hand on Tori’s back, Sohm’lan directed him to the head of one of the tables where Kryp held seats for them. Matsya watched her caregiver’s mouth as he chewed spastically, waiting patiently for her food.

  As was custom, no one mentioned the impending fight, keeping the conversation light as they ate, but it did not hold at bay the weight of responsibility that was settling upon him. As Sohm’lan glanced down the table to the people he loved and respected, he gave a silent prayer to any deity listening to guide him. Not that Sohm’lan was particularly religious, especially after everything he had witnessed in the past summer, but just in case…

  Once the food was cleared away, people wandered the room mingling, but Sohm’lan remained seated. Tori joined Azaes and Canry speaking with Zeus. Matsya insisted on being close to Dargon’s hoverpallet. Valdor sat next to him, his data pad screen filled with a picture of Sohm’lan holding Azaes and Tori after they had been born. The black veil covered his face. The next picture, Sohm’lan had flipped the material over his head and he stared down at the youngling in his arms with awe and hope.

  “There have been times in my life when I have acted in completely selfish ways,” Valdor said, running a dark, claw-tipped finger over the image. “That day was one of them. Three times I have been gripped by an unexpected farsight vision I did not purposely seek. Those incidents were distance farseeings, and all ended with me unable to rise from the sleeping platform for a week or more.”

  Sohm’lan had been present for one such incident. They had been in a meeting with the council when he noticed the signs that Valdor was gripped by farsight. He had kicked the council out of the room and called for Ashari. It had been shortly afterward that Zeus was introduced to the Waters of Poseidon.

  “One of those visions came to me after you joined my staff,” Valdor continued. “Distance visions are hard for us because the future paths are many, and until it is set, the way is… fluid.” He moved his hand like a rolling wave. “But these visions were more warning than future predictions. The one about you did not truly reveal much, but what I was given was enough. I knew you would be important to me, to my family, and our people. I wanted to learn what kind of person would have such a profound impact on Atlainticia, spurring me to get to know you, and uncover your character. I did not expect to be blessed by your friendship. As the vision foretold, you have become important to me, to my family, and today you are the most important person to all Mar’Sani. You will stand alone to defend us.”

  Valdor finally met Sohm’lan’s eyes, his golden gaze so like Tori’s. “I will never be sorry that you are my best friend. I am grateful for how you helped us with our young. There is no better waterfather than you. The way you love my son… I was unsure if that part of my vision would come to fruition. You were stubborningly blind.”

  Sohm’lan grinned, holding back his laugh. “Stubborningly? That is not a word, my friend. Needless to say, I am blessed that Tori is just as obstinate.”

  Valdor snorted, then chortled with his hand to his stomach. “You say that now.” After a few minutes, he sobered. “What I do regret is that you are the one that had to make this challenge. I should be the one facing the nasty hagfish who kept my son from us. But instead, I will be sending you to fight for us, and I will not be standing by your side.”

  While Sohm’lan had
been training to use his quickening as a weapon, there were many discussions about who would remain behind and who would go with him.

  “I am sending Azaes in my stead, and of course, Ashari will go. Canry and Zeus will stay and if the palace is attacked like Pegasus suspects, I want… no, I need to be at their sides. I failed to keep that skink from taking my son the first time, but they will not find me so ill-prepared now. And Zeus, he needs me to stand between him and danger. He would deny it, but when he ran from Timsah, he also ran from me. He was trying to protect me, but he was also afraid of what I would do as well. I need him to see I have confidence that he can protect himself, but also know that I will always stand in the way of those who would hurt him.”

  Sohm’lan did not believe Valdor had anything to prove to his sons but knew how determined his best friend could be. Instead he said, “You are not failing me by staying to protect your family.”

  Valdor did not look convinced but did not argue the point. Sohm’lan’s attention was caught by his parents entering the grand family room. He had not seen them exit. Both carried large, carved wooden chests. A hush fell as they approached him.

  Echo set the case down, pulled out an old-fashioned metal card, and slipped it into the slot at the top. The lid unlocked and lifted, revealing a pair of red bracers with an effigy of his father etched in gold. Next to them was the conch shell his father had used to portal the two of them to safe waters for training.

  “I am passing these down to you, son.” Echo gestured to both the chests. His mem unlocked the second trunk.

  “The trident and bracers are a focus for your quickening. The body armor will help to disperse attacking energy as well as protect against some weapons.”

  His mem threw open the lid to the second chest, revealing more armor in a deep, rich red that shone eerily in the light. The red steel was lightweight when he hefted the pieces. Ceremonially, his parents disrobed him then fitted the interlocking armor to him. Quietly, everyone watched and Sohm’lan fought discomfort at having so many eyes on him.

  The final pieces added were two belt knives that were almost as long as short swords. The white metal was flecked with silver and seemed to almost hum in his grip. A thousand thoughts flitted like a flight of sparrows through his mind, swooping away before he could grasp one to focus on. So many lives and futures would be determined by the outcome of this challenge.

  “Sohm’lan, what are you thinking?”

  He looked down into Mestor’s shining eyes, his heart warming at the concern he saw there. His amor read him well. What would life be like in a couple of summers when they would be able to glean whole conversations by exchanging a single glance? He found he looked forward to the familiarity.

  He pressed his forehead to Mestor’s and smiled. “Protecting that which I love.”

  “Father,” Sohm’lan called. “If I fail—” Mestor made a negative noise, blowing like an irate bull. He pulled his prince against his body, loving how they fit together. “If I fail, will you be punished?”

  “Yes,” Echo replied without hesitation. “If they do not take me into custody then, they will grab me the next time I swim. The penalty for speaking of the—” he choked and coughed some more, and all waited silently for him to continue. “To those who are not… carries the penalty of being descaled and chained in the public square without medical care or sustenance. It is quite horrific and very painful. The only mercy shown is allowing bystanders to chase off any predators that come, called by the blood in the water.”

  Sohm’lan bit back a snarl. Yes, Shaneva had told him what she had endured. He searched for Canry and lifted his arm in silent invitation. His waterson hurried to him, and he pulled Canry close. He had witnessed how Shaneva had been punished and had remained by her side, defending her from predators big and small who would have taken more than a bite of flesh. Canry shivered as if remembering. Ashari’s keen gaze glanced between Sohm’lan and Canry and he waited for her question, glad when she held her peace.

  “But I care not, son,” his father continued, expression grim. “It is time their power is challenged, and I have faith you will win. Your cause is just. Perhaps with Poseidon looking on, I can… this has to… he will not allow them to continue.”

  Sohm’lan nodded. Mestor put his arm around Canry and they walked to Zeus. Ashari wore a fiery countenance as she approached. “You know more than you have revealed.”

  He did. He had hoped that Shaneva would have the chance to speak to her family about what happened when she was fifteen, but the geas kept her from talking. Since her parents had not been quickened before Shaneva was hidden by Arion, they would find out what Nethus had done to her shortly. But it was not yet the time to have such discussions, not when he knew Ashari would act immediately.

  “Which you will learn soon enough,” he soothed. “I know you want to claim retribution against Nethus for keeping Canry from coming home. In this, I am not only Shaneva’s champion and Canry’s voice, but your vessel as well. I am as prepared for this task as three Ancients and two uncles can make me. I will bring him low in your name and then you can administer the sentence and repercussions.” Sohm’lan lowered his voice so she was the only one to hear him. “But if I fail, then you will still be alive to find another way to avenge Canry and Shaneva. But remember, this fight with Nethus, if I win, will subvert a war. Trust me to do my job as your Chief Warlord.”

  Ashari’s gaze narrowed, and a deadly wave of menace swirled around her like a whirlpool, her tail thumping methodically on the floor. She plotted, her desire to take the situation into her own hands evident to everyone who watched them. Sohm’lan had been there when Canry went missing. He had swum at her side, combing the waters for the youngling. He understood her grief, of having a youngling suddenly stripped away. Sohm’lan had been able to hold both Niobe and their youngling, a small, beautiful bull with his meme’s coloring, before laying them to rest. He had said his goodbyes as the two slipped away, crossing into the Fade, leaving to enter the next existence.

  Ashari did not have those last moments with Canry. She searched until completely exhausted, Sohm’lan or Valdor putting her on their back to bring her ashore. She had called for Canry until she was hoarse. When the doctors told her she should stop or she would damage her voice, she ignored them. Eventually, she could not speak at all and still she hunted for her son. She could not resist challenging the person responsible for taking Canry away, and that Sohm’lan would not allow.

  Long ago, he had vowed to protect this family and the Mar’Sani people. As Shaneva’s and Canry’s waterfather, as well as the Chief Warlord, Sohm’lan was the logical representative for Emperor Valdor and Empress Ashari.

  “I know you, Sohm’lan Myrmidon, and you will win against the creature who stole my son and trespassed against my daughter.” In response to her loud proclamation all the Vondorians flexed and their red barbs bristled from their ridges, going from soft to deadly poisonous in a heartbeat. The trust and confidence she gave him was gratifying. “But I will never be done with Nethus, no matter who wins,” Ashari finished in a near whisper.

  “I expected no less,” he replied.

  “While there, beware of what you say to each other telepathically,” Echo cautioned. “It would be wise to stick to the language of the hands. The Numina do not know it.”

  An evil light entered Ashari’s eyes. “Good to know.”

  Sohm’lan felt a tug in his gut and he put his hand over the sensation where it rested in his core.

  His father noticed and nodded. “It is almost time to leave.” At the pronouncement, people moved with purpose. There were several shuttles on the palace’s landing pad waiting to transport those in the palace to the location. Valdor’s mercenary sister coordinated the other transports that would be delivering the other summoned Mar’Sani.

  Azaes looked grim and Mestor’s expression was mutinous, a look Sohm’lan knew well. Not caring who watched, he pulled his prince closer and pressed their foreheads togethe
r. “I’m almost looking forward to being wounded. The thought of your touch healing me…” He grinned when Mestor trembled, pheromones suddenly filling the air between them.

  “Stupid bull, you do not have to be injured to get me to put my mouth on you.” Despite everything, Mestor grinned and the sight lifted Sohm’lan’s heart.

  He rubbed his cheek against Mestor’s, savoring the sound of their scales sliding against each other. When he pulled away, he pretended he did not hear Mestor’s noise of displeasure. Later he would soothe his lover. It was time for him to claim restitution in the Vondorian name.

  Those who were going to the challenge gravitated to the side of the room where racks had been rolled in by Basilisc, holding utility belts with red steel knives and the typical gear usually donned when people swam deeper waters.

  Kryp came over with Matsya. Her large blue eyes were filled with fear and Kryp was trying to soothe her, whispering how everything would be all right. She held her hands out to Sohm’lan and he took her. This morning, Mestor had told him about her using telepathy to speak to Zeus’s twins. He opened his mind to her. “Why do you fear?”

  Matsya threw her head back and cried big, gasping sobs. “Do not go, Lanlan! They took my meme and hurt her. Please stay.”

  Mestor gasped and put his arms around Matsya and Sohm’lan.

  “What? What did I miss? Is she hurt?” Kryp asked, wringing his hands and his antennae turning a sickly yellow.

  Sohm’lan pulled Kryp in close and relayed what Matsya said. Mestor felt terrible for not telling him the night before when he heard her talking to the kits.

  “She speaks telepathically?” Kryp’s huge, powder-blue eyes turned shiny as tears overflowed. “I did not fail teaching her how to talk? She is incredibly smart and hyperaware, but the doctors said there were nothing wrong with her vocal cords, so the issue had to be with me and how I was instructing her.”