by Lexi Ander
Echo’s brothers and the Ancients joined them. For a moment, they all merely watched as the Mar’Sani were directed to one side of the arena. They were kept together and those who wandered from the pods were quickly gathered up and returned.
Figures swam from the citiplex, their shapes dissimilar from the Mar’Sani. Looking more like Echo or Arion, their wildly diverse forms and colors allowed them to blend in with sea life.
Farther out, in the darker waters, a massive pod was headed toward the gyre circle. The mysterious mass was speckled with multicolored glowing lights that appeared to writhe and squirm in agitation. His intuition told him these beings were the Numina and his spines shot out of his ridge, giving away his sudden ire. Tori moved closer, his stance protective.
The outcasts coming in from the citiplex shied away from the newcomers, giving them a wide birth. Ashari grumbled about the outcasts showing signs of abuse. Sohm’lan’s mem reminded Ashari to guard her telepathic speech. His parents were terrified the Numina would attempt to take Ashari if they found out she had quickened. Even if Sohm’lan won, the danger would remain until the Numina were brought under control.
While Sohm’lan watched the dark horde approach and take sections across from the Mar’Sani, People of the Longing arrived. He did not think he had seen so many of the Longing gathered in one place before. Their citiplexes were of modest size and scattered along the coast nearest their relatives.
The People of the Longing ignored the Numina as if they did not exist and mingled with the outcasts. The hostility emanating from the darkling throng made Sohm’lan’s senses go on alert, searching for the deadly snake in the grass. The longer the People of the Longing ignored them, instead of cowering or showing deference as some of the outcasts did, the more threatening the energy became. He would have to mobilize the military to protect the citiplexes from Numina retaliation.
A small pod broke away from the outcasts and moved toward him. In the lead was Elder Lelex from Valespia. Their thick red and black tentacles undulated gracefully as they swam.
“Chief Warlord Sohm’lan and Triton Myrmidon, I give you greetings.” Elder Lelex spread the tentacles of their upper torso and inclined their head. Sohm’lan’s father returned an approximation of the gesture and Sohm’lan mimicked him.
“Greetings,” Sohm’lan returned, bringing Ashari forward. “Allow me to introduce you to Empress Ashari Vondorian of Atlainticia. Empress, this is Elder Lelex of the citiplex of Epoptis on Valespia.”
“I am honored to meet you,” Ashari replied, spreading her arms wide and giving a royal nod. “I do wish we could have met under different circumstances.”
“I have heard wondrous things about you and Emperor Valdor. Rumor is that once the emperor retires, your mate will take the seat on the Council of Neighn. I wanted to issue an invitation to the two of you. You are welcome at my home anytime.” Lelex gave Sohm’lan a sharp-toothed grin. “We outcasts look forward to the day when we can move freely about the Waters.”
Sohm’lan nodded, hearing the underlying statement. The outcasts were ready for change, and they were counting on him to help.
“This is my amor and future lifemate, Prince Mestor Vondorian.”
Elder Lelex turned their dark fathomless gaze on Tori, their two largest tentacles stretching across the short distance, centimeters away from touching. The ornate rings around the ends of their limbs were bedecked with gems.
“You have stolen the warlord’s heart, and in doing so have broken the hearts of many set on winning over the warlord. Word of Warlord Sohm’lan’s deed on Valespia, helping to save the female chained to the punishment rock by the Numina, has swept through Epoptis and many had hoped he was unattached. Adding his genetics to any bloodline would bring multiple blessings to the family.”
Tori’s expression ran through a gamut of emotions, finally settling on possessiveness. “The Vondorians are honored his bloodline will mingle with ours.”
Sohm’lan was surprised Tori was able to give a diplomatic reply.
Lelex grinned, highly amused, then they turned to Sohm’lan. “How is the female?”
A pang of sadness hit him. “She and her mate passed shortly afterward.” He remembered how Matsya had clung to Kryp as if he too would disappear.
“Warlord Sohm’lan and I are fostering her youngling. Her adoption will be finalized after our commitment ceremony,” Tori added, taking Sohm’lan’s hand.
“It is good she has found a family who accepts her as she is,” Lelex said gravely. “Many mixed-race young have been abandoned at the edges of the citiplexes. It is hard finding homes not already overburdened to take them in.”
“That is something we would be more than happy to help with,” Ashari said, a furious glint in her eyes. Sohm’lan had seen that burning fire before. She had it when she had claimed Zeus. He would not be surprised if she and Valdor claimed more young as their own. The Vondorian family had always cared deeply for orphans, and Lelex had just given her a reason to visit Epoptis.
A heavy pulse of energy from the arena pulled at Sohm’lan’s bones. Lelex held out a gem-encrusted tentacle to Ashari. “Allow me to escort you, Empress. We are being called to witness. I admit that I am looking forward to Warlord Sohm’lan trouncing that pretentious youngling of Poseidon’s.” To Sohm’lan they said, “The gyre circle judges the combatants and will steal or give power as it sees fit, or it will balance the playing field within its borders. No matter how skilled the fighter, if the cause is not justified, then no amount of power will win the challenge.”
“I am aware,” Sohm’lan replied.
“Whatever the result of the match, there will be no fighting outside the gyre circle. Immediately challenging the winner or loser is highly frowned upon. Usually, the outcome within the circle is final, but there have been Numina who have ignored the rule.” The way Elder Lelex said it, made it clear how repugnant they found those individuals.
“We will abide by the rules,” Empress Ashari replied.
“Since I have no wish to be caught in a conversation with them—” The inflection on them sounded more like a foul word or slur. Elder Lelex indicated a small pod of a dozen or so individuals who broke away from the darkling throng. “Let us find our seats.” Sohm’lan signaled, and Monticore surrounded Ashari and Elder Lelex in a bristling escort.
He had forgotten Arion, Pegasus, his father, and the Ancients were still with him until Arion moved between him and the group of Numina. He was concerned. He had no reason to believe any Numina held any soft feelings for his father. Their appearance ranged in size and shape, but they all had the same blue eyes Sohm’lan shared with his parent.
Echo made a noise and Sohm’lan floated closer. He and Tori shielded his father from the newcomers.
“Have no worries. They are a few of our family,” Echo said wistfully.
“They shunned you, made you outcast.” Sohm’lan ground his teeth as he frowned at the cheerful expressions of the newcomers.
“They did what they thought was right by following the law,” Echo defended.
“Excuses,” Sohm’lan sneered. “The laws are unjust and encourage racism and bigotry.”
“The laws are there to protect us,” replied one of the newcomers, her form much like Echo’s.
Sohm’lan turned his fury on her. “Against what? The descendants and followers of Pegasus the Explorer, from the Meirsonoi, the fruit of the land? The laws set the Numina apart and above the People of the Longing. You force our young to lie to their families. Those very laws allowed one of your number to abduct a youngling of only six moons from his parents. He was kept from his family, forbidden to have ties to the land and her people. What do you think Poseidon said about that?”
“What does Poseidon know?” sneered a smaller male.
“You saw Poseidon?” another asked excitedly.
“Ignore him,” the smaller male continued. “Poseidon has not been on Atlainticia for more than three centuries. If he did not approve of ou
r laws, he would have said something before now.”
Tori swam up to the posturing male, his barbs unsheathed in warning. “How would he know since you have been hiding your noxious deeds from him? Why do you not ask Nethus what Poseidon had to say? I was there to hear the lecture before Nethus was removed as Prince Canry’s mentor.”
All the Numina visibly startled, as if unprepared to hear Tori speaking telepathically. Before his father’s relatives could argue further, the Ancients and Pegasus pushed forward, making the Numina hastily retreat.
“You need to think hard on what kind of future you want,” Pegasus said, his angry glare making every Numina glance away. “The party responsible for attacking the royal palace as we left will face repercussions. I, for one, will advocate that they be banned from the Waters for the rest of their long, miserable, lives.”
Every individual in the pod recoiled, in horror or fear, Sohm’lan could not tell. Just then, the standing stones vibrated and the ground rumbled, the pillars growing taller as they shot skyward. The outermost ring was the highest. Each tier moving inward to the arena center dropping in height just like seating in a stadium. All the rings were packed. By taking the seating between them at the opposite ends, the outcasts separated the Mar’Sani from the Numina.
“It is time,” Echo intoned and the Numina quickly dispersed.
His father sighed. “Not all my siblings agreed when the laws were instituted, but the vote was against us. They wanted to resolve the issue without drawing Poseidon’s attention.”
Sohm’lan did not care enough to ask why. If any person did not want to associate with those on the shore that was their prerogative, but to forcibly insist others follow their beliefs by making laws to forbid associations and set gruesome penalties to enforce those laws was wrong. Those who disagreed but did nothing… Sohm’lan did not understand, then again, he did not have to. All he needed to do was his part to change it.
They swam through the forest of pillars, the people overhead separated by quartz railings that emanated a soft glow. When he reached the innermost circle, everyone but Tori bid him good luck and went to find a place to view the fight. This close he sensed the buzz coming from the megaliths. He made sure to keep his tail out of the gel pools at the base of the columns.
He turned to his amor and Tori wrapped around him like an octopus. Only the scales of Sohm’lan’s face were exposed, and Tori rubbed his cheek against Sohm’lan’s, singing to him of love and laughter and peaceful days. “Do not play with that toad too long. Squash him quickly so we can go home.” Tori pressed his forehead against Sohm’lan’s one last time. “May your enemy know true fear when they lay eyes on you.”
The Monticore surrounded Tori as they separated. Sohm’lan signed, giving his last commands to the elite guard. ::Evacuate the royal family immediately if the fight goes badly. Do not to wait for him:: Tori sent him a dirty look but did not argue. They floated upward to the first-tier overhead where Ashari and Elder Lelex waited in their quartz box.
He took a long breath, pulling water through the back of his mouth and out the gills along his spine. Experimentally twirling the trident in his hands, Sohm’lan ran through several strategies. Mar’Sani were taught how to fight in the water. There were dangerous creatures in the Waters of Poseidon, but since they were predominately land dwellers... They had believed they knew what lived in the depths and that they did not need to worry about facing a sentient enemy in their oceans, instead guarding the land and sky. Water was difficult to fight in, and his reaction time would be lessened by the pressure of the depths. Even though he had been practicing, he would be at a disadvantage, prone to quick exhaustion. This fight could not be drawn out.
Readied, he passed between two pillars and it was as if he hit a wall. He was caught like a fly in a Chtichlian’s web. Unbelievably, lightning jumped from the stone, the biting tingle flowing over Sohm’lan’s scales, even those covered by the armor. The immense energy scoured him as if the gyre circle peered into the center of who he was, reading his thoughts and his desires, watching his experiences and his actions. There was not a part of him, mentally or physically, that went untouched. And when he was spit out on the other side, he swore he sensed approval and appreciation. He gasped, his lungs forcing water through as he struggled to catch his breath.
Within the center of the circle, he comprehended for the first time how massive the arena had grown. Every space of every tier was taken, the megaliths illuminating everything. To him, the Mar’Sani stood out like jewels on a bed of dark blue.
The light from the columns also lit the arena floor, giving the illusion that he stood in sunshine. The white, silty sand puffed up in small clouds around his ankles when his tail swished too close to the ground. Swimming higher, he crossed to the middle before coming to rest, striking the soil with the butt of his trident. The energy the weapon emitted visibly rippled through the water.
Behind the Mar’Sani’s section, something massive writhed in the Water. If he stared at it straight on it looked like strange shadows, but turning his head and using his peripheral sight, he clearly saw a cloud of tentacles. He thought Wanderer’s kraken form was large. This being was three times their size.
Acknowledging that there was nothing he could do, he put his curiosity aside. Instead, he turned to the Numina’s section. “Nethus Qalupalik, son of Poseidon! I am waiting for you!”
The gyre circle broadcast his taunt for all to hear, even those without telepathy. The spectators moved restlessly, and excited chatter came from the outcast section. The Numina were stonily silent.
A figure appeared under the Numina tiers. Sohm’lan had forgotten how large Nethus was, taller than Sohm’lan’s father. His leathery skin was a pale blue this time. He wished he knew how to read the color changes. Was Nethus angry? Apprehensive? Scared? Nethus was a tailless biped and Zeus had taught the Mar’Sani not to underestimate people lacking a fifth limb.
Nethus stretched, posturing to show all gathered how powerful and muscular he was. His head of tentacles were free-floating, giving Sohm’lan a view of the hidden barbs Tori and Azaes had warned him of.
As if he could not help himself, Nethus flexed once more before he moved between the pillars. He froze in mid-motion and a column touched him with a rod of energy. A wave of disquiet and something akin to ire emanated from the stones before the energy pushed Nethus through to the arena floor. The audience must have felt the sensation as well because many voices were raised in disbelief and more still cheered from the outcast sections.
Nethus’s smug expression slipped away. Judging by his contemplative expression, Sohm’lan wondered if Nethus was considering forfeiture. He could not allow that to happen. Canry had slipped him a note before he had left. It simply said that the Numina would only accept judgment from the gyre circle. Would forfeiting count? He was not sure if Poseidon had arrived. This was the only avenue available to set things straight without entering a civil war. But more than that, he was Princess Shaneva’s champion, and he had made a promise. Nethus’s and the Numina’s trespasses needed to be addressed and corrected.
“Having second thoughts, skink? Just the cowardly behavior I have come to expect from a youngling stealer,” Sohm’lan goaded with as much venom he could project.
The murmur of the crowd grew with echoing whispers of, “Youngling stealer?”
Nethus’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed the distance with an arrogant swagger. Sohm’lan lifted his lip to show his disdain. Nethus’s armor of black mother-of-pearl had spots encrusted with barnacles on the shoulders and chest, evidence that he had neglected his equipment. Any warrior worth his water would never allow their armor or weapons to fall into disrepair.
“Mar’Sani,” Nethus spat, the growl of his mental voice meant to be intimidating. “You honestly believe your accusation warrants a challenge? The gyre circles were never meant to officiate personal grudges but were a way to divert a war between two peoples.”
Sohm’lan waited for the hagf
ish to comprehend that their two peoples would already be at war if he and the Vondorians were not searching for an alternative. Nethus’s brows rose until his eyes were wide with disbelief.
“I entered the circle, did I not?” He waved his arm to indicate the many tiers. “Are the Numina not arranged in the stands as well, answering the summons to give witness, just as the outcasts and Mar’Sani have?”
Nethus swam around Sohm’lan and he turned, never giving the devious male his back. “You mean to tell me that you would go to war over one person? Someone who would have perished the same day without my help? He would have gone insane in a dozen different ways if I had not agreed to mentor him. You have no cause to issue a challenge. I have followed the laws of the Numina to the letter. I have done nothing illegal.”
“By Prince Canry’s admission, he sensed your call and went to you,” Sohm’lan aloud. “He was quickening and needed someone with your expertise to guide him. But that did not mean you could take him from his family and hold him hostage mentally, if not physically. He was only six moons in age and relied on you to do what was best for him.” Sohm’lan’s words echoed across the water and the crowd’s murmuring turned dark.
“You are only proving my point. This challenge is a farce.” Nethus grinned smugly.
“If you had done what was right for Prince Canry, then Poseidon would not have taken him from your care. Poseidon said you had stunted Prince Canry’s development, set him up to fail by keeping him from the People of the Shore. How is that doing what is best for him?” Sohm’lan countered. Nethus flinched and the Numina roared, their angry denials overwhelming the positive response from the outcasts and Mar’Sani. “The Vondorians’ encounter with you and Poseidon in the Dream told me many things. Poseidon knew Canry was in your care, spoke as if he was the one who arranged it, but he was unaware you had kept Canry from returning home and was angry over your actions. If Poseidon knew where Canry was but was unaware of the circumstances, what other lies or omissions were told to him to keep Numina secrets? How many other Mar’Sani young were taken from their families under the pretense of needing Numina help? Or how about this? How many Mar’Sani have quickened like Canry, desperately needing Numina help and the Numina refused, and that led to the death of the one in need?”