by Lexi Ander
About the same time word came that Meme’s airship was approaching, they were also notified that the ink antidote was inbound. Though he loathed leaving Sohm’s side, he gave a dozen Monticore instructions to call immediately if Sohm’lan awakened.
Mestor walked next to his father. Zeus, Ariafella, and Rathmar were hurrying ahead, Zeus’s tail bouncing with a jaunty sway. He was excited to show the rest of their family his new form. Mestor was still in awe but there was a part of him that missed Zeus’s other form. He made a mental note to remind his brother they loved him no matter what he looked like.
Halfway to the landing pad they were intercepted by a hovercraft that had been ordered for their incoming guests. He happily hopped aboard, sick of walking the underground tunnels. When they arrived, two airships had already landed. They greeted family; his grandparents, aunts, and uncles all chatted excitedly. They stopped briefly to ask Father about the attack and then promised to speak more after late-meal.
The second ship held the Ancients and Sohm’lan’s uncles. They did not move far from the landing pad. All watched the approach of a third aircraft that waited for the pad to be cleared before setting down. Once the ramp was lowered, Arion hurried down, his midnight blue mane rippling behind him.
Ariafella greeted Azaes with pressed foreheads, her song sounding like a tinkling of bells. Mestor smirked and glanced away, glad he and Sohm’lan did not look that sappy together.
He almost startled when Azaes gave him a mental pinch. “Oh, you and your warlord are much, much worse.”
Snorting in disbelief, he hurried to greet his twin. Ambassador Tymon went to Ariafella, staring at Zeus hard before he gave his daughter all his attention. At the top of the ramp, Sohm’lan’s parents helped Poseidon, who seemed to be having problems.
The Ancient was again smaller than when Mestor had last seen him, though it was hard to tell since he still had a mass of tentacles on his lower body. Poseidon seemed to be concentrating hard, on what Mestor was unsure.
“Can you not remember the feel of your natural form?” Echo asked.
“I have lived in this shape for so long, I am having trouble picturing myself as anything else,” Poseidon replied, his expression full of consternation.
“Let me see if I can help,” Arion said returning from the hovercraft with a robe. He… flowed. That was the only way Mestor could describe it. He flowed into a featureless, Alpha-like body, though many times larger. He reached for Poseidon and covered half of him. Poseidon closed his eyes, blocking out all other stimuli. His gray-blue hide rippled, turning a darker gray, the coloring mottled with spots of blue and, oddly, pink. Then he made a noise that was not quite pain.
Mestor bit back his words of caution and encouragement. What was he going to say? Relax? Let it come naturally? What did he know about Ryo’Pardeep shape-changing? Suddenly, Poseidon bent, and his tentacles slapped the metal ramp as he thrashed below his waist, morphing into two legs. A pattern of scales erupted over his skin, covering him completely in deep blue to gray-blue scales. His hair and beard of green remained as well as his four arms.
Poseidon wobbled like a youngling just learning to walk, and Mestor lunged forward when both Arion and Poseidon sank to the floor. He put his shoulder under Poseidon’s topmost arm and grabbed the lower one to wrap around his waist, Echo taking the other side. Arion had resumed his biped form, and Lilika helped him to his feet. They assisted Poseidon down the ramp, those few steps causing him to pant.
Arion mumbled encouragement as they reached the hovercraft. Grumbling, Poseidon attempted to stand alone, but tottered and almost toppled.
“Give yourself time,” Echo coaxed. “You have not had to balance on legs for ages. Your equilibrium will adjust soon enough.”
“Zeus?” Meme’s voice caught.
Mestor spun, not wanting to miss this. Azaes made a noise, just then seeing Zeus. Ariafella whispered in his earhole, no doubt telling him how Zeus had morphed in front of the Numina yelling, “I am Warlord Striker!” Stars above, he wished he had been there.
“Son?” Meme rushed down the ramp and Zeus caught her, his peal of laughter accompanied by thunder, though there were no clouds in the sky.
Unable to stay at a distance, Mestor moved close, grinning as Azaes joined them, whooping and lifting both off the ground.
When they settled, Meme pressed her forehead against Zeus’s. “You kept your father from mischief?”
Mestor did not think Zeus’s smile could get any bigger. “I am told it was caught on vid, much to his dismay. Are you sure he should serve on the Council of Neighn? I can see him bellowing a challenge during a council debate without Sohm’lan there to keep him in line.”
Meme snorted. “Do not underestimate me, youngling. One does not have to be a warlord to keep your father from wreaking havoc.”
“You two stop plotting,” Valdor said as he greeted Meme, his expression adoring as she pressed her forehead to his. “I am happy you have returned whole, my love. Our son told us what happened, and I have to admit I am relieved a barrier kept you from joining the fight.”
Ashari sighed. “Our younglings’ recklessness has rubbed off on me. I will have to be content choosing the recompenses Nethus will pay. Speaking of which, let us meet with Poseidon and put to rest this threat of the Numina taking our people.”
Mestor would have rather returned to the infirmary, but Zeus caught him by the waist, and they followed their parents to the hovercraft.
The meeting was held in their father’s private study. It was large enough to hold all parties and still be comfortable. When Mestor entered, Sohm’lan’s father was lovingly held against Poseidon’s side. Arion and Pegasus took their seats after Mestor’s parents sat, their proximity to the empress and emperor of Atlainticia saying without words that they sided with the Mar’Sani. The Ancients did not sit with Poseidon, but neither did they take places near the Mar’Sani. Mestor remained standing by the doorway, ready to leave unobtrusively if he received word Sohm’lan was awake.
Poseidon sighed, glancing at Azaes and then Mestor. “Once again we meet, princelings. And again not under the best of circumstances.” He bowed to Mestor’s parents. “Please know that if I had suspected the extent of Nethus’s trespasses, I would have done more than put Prince Canry under Arion’s tutelage. I wish I had known sooner that my young had become so closed off and territorial, to have forced their ways upon others.”
Mestor was not surprised when Meme’s expression turned furious. At the arena, the Numina had cowered from Poseidon. The Monticore had given him shy almost reverent glances. Meme, on the other hand, if she felt any awe that Poseidon was among them, one would not know by her glare.
“We are owed recompense,” his father said calmly.
“And,” Mestor said, levering off the wall, “we need a way to contact you.” The burn of anger that had been banked moons ago flared as if fanned by his sudden need to be heard. “My mate is injured and unconscious because we had no way to reach you. We were warned that if we tried to handle the Numina ourselves, we would be weakened by civil war when we were needed by the Galactic Imperials. Challenging Nethus in the circle was the only way to get your attention and even then, we were unsure if you would come.”
“We are Ryo’Pardeep,” Light Bringer broke into Mestor’s angry rant. “We are not like the Alpha-Zetamites, content to stay in one place and endure the sorrow of generations of people we love dying century after century. Some of us find worlds to spread seeds of life. Some of us explore, the need to keep moving so much a part of who we are that we cannot stop, just as we cannot stop breathing.”
Poseidon nodded. “I stay with the civilizations that I help create until they are stable, and then swim to new waters. I do not want to govern. I will leave that to my offspring. Young who survived the Arthro War know the mistakes we made. I left believing the people were in capable hands.”
“And we were for a time,” Pegasus said, looking quite bored. “But we were eventually p
ushed out by younger generations holding ideologies that encouraged isolation. Those of us who left to explore and change left a vacuum. There were many who panicked, believing the Numina would be threatened by extinction, despite what we said. They were angry when we chose land or sky over the depths.”
“The Numina made their choices and they will reap the consequences, but we need your help to bring them around.” Valdor sat forward, his bearing regal. “We cannot have them stealing young or ambushing people who have quickened. Since they did not want anyone to know of their existence, our People of the Longing were all forced to accept a geas chip, their families unaware of this mental rape.”
Poseidon stared at his hands, his expression sad and forlorn. He looked to Meme. “What compensation do you seek from Nethus?”
The gleam in her eyes sharpened. Meme glanced at Valdor and he nodded as if they had already spoken extensively. “For starters, he should experience the same punishment he administered to Shaneva.” She paused; her gaze narrowed while she waited for Poseidon’s response. He gave a nod. “He needs to serve a penance for the abduction of our son. I would say that the time he serves should be twice the length of the time Canry was kept from us. He not only denied Canry his family, but he also denied us our son. Those are summers we cannot get back. We were deprived of watching him grow, experiencing his firsts. There were crucial points in his life when he needed us, needed our encouragement, our unconditional love, and our wisdom. That time is lost and something that cannot be replaced.”
“So Nethus’s service is two times the length.” Poseidon crossed his arms and frowned. “I think the proposed time period is too lenient. He is long-lived, and those summers are a minute amount to him. I will be looking into his care of Prince Canry, but what I can say right now is that his abilities are unbalanced.”
Arion nodded his head. “I agree. He needs ties to land and water, to be in harmonious balance. He was denied that, plus, his ties to the sea are mainly to Nethus himself. Numina who visited Nethus did not want to form bonds, only to use the princeling’s abilities. In some ways, I will be re-teaching him the lessons he should have had long ago.”
“My son truly believes he did nothing wrong,” Poseidon stated aloud, not expecting a reply.
“From what I uncovered from those who dared to speak to me,” Arion added. “Everyone aware of Prince Canry knew very well you would disapprove of how they conducted themselves and how they treated non-Numina. They exiled, forced out most who opposed them, and ruled with an iron fist those weaker than them. Many attempted to strong arm me into allowing them to use Prince Canry’s abilities for their own gain. Nethus had allowed it a few times in order to keep them from attempting to take the prince from him.”
As Arion spoke, Poseidon’s expression hardened. “They have forgotten. These are my Waters. I say who can use them.”
Mestor wondered what that meant exactly. Offworlders could not swim in the Waters of Poseidon. He had always thought it had to do with the species being intolerant to something in the sea. Was Poseidon saying he was the one who decided? If so, would he force the Numina out? Deny them access? He shuddered at the thought of not being able to swim the Great Sea.
Poseidon scrubbed a hand over his face. “As I suspected. Now to make Nethus’s penance something he will not easily forget. I recommend his sentence should be four times the summers Prince Canry was withheld from his family, which would come to two hundred and eighty summers. I also suggest that those who were aware of Nethus’s deeds and helped him will also share penance with Nethus.” When he pulled his hand from his face, his expression was full of thunderous rage, arcs of electricity flowed over his skin like that of an electric eel. “In the coming days I will be conducting a tribunal. Attendance will be mandatory. Spread the word, Arion. I will need help.”
Pegasus, Sohm’lan’s father, and the three Ancients offered their assistance, which Poseidon accepted.
“I will help,” Zeus said, looking very much like a warlord with his assessing eyes and stern expression. “We Mar’Sani need to be a part of the process of weeding out those who have poisoned the Numina and caused this divide between our peoples. Many will need rehabilitation, to learn about the People of the Shore. Our peoples need to be peacefully integrated. If you handle it all, then when you leave again, they will feel it is acceptable to go back to the old ways.”
“You are wise, young prince. And congratulations on your second quickening.” Poseidon gave a soft smile and seemed as if he would say something else but thought better of it. He turned to Meme. “What is Nethus’s penance, Empress Ashari?”
“Before the humans and V’Saar laid siege to Valespia, The Council of Neighn was putting together an investigation team to look into a number of strange abductions across several solar systems. Pirates, some humans, some not, have been attacking starships. When they board, they are not taking valuables or the vessel’s cargo. They look through the passengers, selecting different species of all genders. We do not know what they are searching for. They make no demands or ransom. They could be slavers or something else. I suggest putting Nethus in charge of the investigation and make him responsible for retrieving those abducted and returning them to their homes and families. He would bring the people and or organizations to justice. If he does not enter the penance in good faith and work diligently to resolve the matter, then his life is forfeit.”
An approving glint entered Poseidon’s eye as he agreed to the terms. Mestor moved back to the doorway, his anger deflating with Poseidon being so agreeable. He checked his data pad for messages about Sohm’lan, tapping the earpiece of his comm-link to make sure it was working.
Zeus and Poseidon were discussing details about how to integrate Numina and Mar’Sani. What hidden problems could be uncovered. Blah, blah, blah.
He was done. With a glance at his twin that conveyed his worry about Sohm’lan, he excused himself without waiting for a reply. He was halfway back to the infirmary when Echo caught up with him.
“Valdor said Sohm’lan is not completely healed. His power, his quickening should have responded to yours.”
He explained about the Monticore helping with their saliva, and how it was different than what he had experienced before.
“When Sohm’lan’s quickening responded before” —and he was lit from within as if the sun shined behind his scales, they had orgasmed, he could not forget that part— “he was conscious.”
“It sounds as if you two were operating on instinct. It is much easier when you are mates.” Echo grinned as if he not only heard what Mestor said, but what he was thinking.
He refused to be embarrassed. Surely he and Sohm’lan were not the only ones who greatly enjoyed the aftereffects of healing?
They entered the infirmary’s main room and crossed to the private chamber that overflowed with guards. Echo glanced at Mestor from the corner of his eye but made no comment. He did not think he needed to explain he would never leave his mate vulnerable.
He stopped in the doorway, surprised to see Sohm’lan was not alone. Shaneva lounged in a plain tub close enough to the platform that she could hold one of his hands. Matsya was curled next to him, making little cooing noises. Kryp stood in the corner, his colorful antennae curled tight against his pale head.
A feathery tickle brushed against his shields and he opened to Matsya. “Tori! Lanlan is hurt!”
He picked her up and cuddled her, Matsya’s little body shuddering as she cried into his neck. Murmuring softly, he rocked back and forth, trying to soothe her. “He will heal, little one.” He said the words not only for Matsya’s benefit, but for Shaneva’s as well. He met his sister’s haunted eyes. “It will just take time.”
“I can heal him,” Poseidon said from the doorway, Arion hovering as if he expected his father to topple at any moment.
Echo’s expression was full of concern. “Are you sure?”
“Just because I have forgotten the feel of my natural form does not mean I am deficie
nt in my abilities.” Instead of sounding angry, Poseidon just seemed tired.
Even though Poseidon was, well, Poseidon, Mestor was unsure if he should allow him to attempt to heal Sohm’lan.
As if sensing Mestor’s doubts, he met Mestor’s gaze, Poseidon’s expression turning sheepish. “Triton can teach you how to shape your quickening for healing when your mate is unconscious. And you might want to put your shields back up. You think I am weak, and your twin is distracted by thoughts of bed play with his amor.”
Mestor looked past Poseidon to the others who had followed Poseidon from the library. Ariafella was not mortified by Poseidon’s statement but regarded Azaes with unveiled heat. His twin smacked his tail on the floor several times, the action and his rounded eyes giving away his embarrassment. A burst of laughter escaped Mestor.
Poseidon whistled low as he looked over Sohm’lan’s back. “We removed several barbs from Nethus’s abdomen. That Sohm’lan broke so many and still fought is a feat that deserves to be lauded.”
Dr. Solon shouldered his way into the room and checked Sohm’lan’s vital signs. Mestor held Matsya in one arm and gripped Sohm’lan’s ankle, needing to touch him as both Dr. Solon and Poseidon assessed his amor.
“He is unconscious because he overused his energy.” Poseidon rested a hand on the back Sohm’lan’s head and another moved the gauze aside to inspect the base of the barbs. “He is in a healing sleep and will need a great deal of sustenance, preferably food high in vitamins and proteins.”
The area around the sleeping platform was crowded with the addition of Dr. Solon and Poseidon, plus Shaneva’s portable tub. For safety, Dr. Solon ushered in attendants to roll her away after she gave a final squeeze to Sohm’lan’s hand. Mestor moved to stand with Kryp. When he raised his arm, Kryp tucked into his side. Matsya reached for Kryp, and he took her, making trilling noises that settled her.