Waterfire Saga, Book Four: Sea Spell: Deep Blue Novel, A

by Jennifer Donnelly

  As she spoke, she pulled something out of her pocket. It was a chain made of dark metal, small but heavy. Before Mahdi even knew what she was doing, she’d looped it around his neck, slipped the hasp of a tiny padlock through both ends, and clicked it shut.

  “What is this?” he asked. He hooked a finger in the chain, pulled it taut, and tried to look at it, but he couldn’t. It was too short.

  “It’s a protective iron necklace, Mahdi. Uncuttable. It’ll keep you from contacting the Black Fins with a convoca, or casting a transparensea pearl to escape.”

  Mahdi stiffened. He was furious, and humiliated, but more than that, he was panic-stricken. Iron repelled magic. As long as it was on him, he wouldn’t be able to songcast. Magic helped him get messages to the Black Fins. How would he tell them what Lucia had done to Sera?

  “Unlock it, Lucia,” he said angrily. “Now.”

  Lucia shook her head. “It’s for your own good. The effects of a strong enchantment can linger. The Black Fins might still be controlling you.”

  “Get it off me. It’s a collar. I’m not a dogfish.”

  “Of course you’re not,” Lucia soothed, smiling. “And I will take it off. On our wedding day so you can sing your vows. By then, the spell will have worn off completely. You’ll be safe, Mahdi. You’ll be mine.”

  “Lucia—” He was about to keep arguing with her, but he suddenly stopped. Because an idea had come to him, inspired by her words….You can sing your vows….

  I can now, he realized. Sera, his beloved, was dead, and her death released him from the vows they’d made. That changed everything. The collar didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. He wouldn’t escape from this place, and from Lucia, even if he could. A plan had begun to take shape in his mind. He saw that the best way to help the Black Fins now, and to avenge Sera’s death, was to stay right here.

  And go through with his wedding.

  “You’re not angry with me, are you, Mahdi?” Lucia asked, her eyes searching his. “I told you, it’s for your own good.”

  “Oh, I was for a moment,” he said, laughingly. “Because I didn’t understand, but I do now. You’re absolutely right. We can’t take any chances. Unlock it on our wedding day. Oh, hey!” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “Speaking of weddings, I nearly forgot! I have a fitting for my wedding jacket in five minutes. I’ve got to make wake, but I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Lucia made a disappointed face.

  “It’s only a couple hours away! Don’t forget about me, okay?” He kissed her again, then said, “I love you, merl.” He was smiling at her, but the words were acid in his mouth.

  He swam away fast, looking distracted, as if he’d really forgotten an appointment. He sped over the gardens, under an arched doorway, through labyrinthine hallways to the west wing of the palace. He rushed past officials, ministers, and servants, and then finally arrived at the door to his rooms.

  “I’m not to be disturbed,” he barked at his guards, as they opened the door for him.

  The guards nodded, then closed the door behind him. As soon as they did, Mahdi’s mask fell away, and an expression of tearing grief took its place. He would never see Sera’s beautiful face again. Never hear his name on her lips. Never gaze into her green eyes, so full of life. So full of love. He took two strokes into the room, faltered, and crumpled.

  “Sera,” he wept. “Oh, gods…Sera.”

  He stayed that way for a long time, eyes closed, overwhelmed by sorrow. Sera was gone. And with her, his heart and soul. He was nothing now. Just an empty shell.

  Some hours later, as the waters were just starting to darken, a knock on the door tore him from his misery.

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” a voice called through the door, “but it’s almost dinnertime. Do you require my help dressing?”

  It was Mahdi’s valet.

  “No, Emilio, I’ll do it myself tonight, thanks,” he called back, struggling to sound normal.

  “Very well, Your Grace,” Emilio said.

  Mahdi knew he would have to get up. Somehow, he would have to dress, go to dinner, and smile at Lucia. His thoughts returned to the plan that he’d started to shape earlier, the plan to help the Black Fins. He wasn’t the only one who had lost Sera. They had, too. So had the merfolk of her realm. It was them he had to think of now, not himself.

  Through sheer force of will, Mahdi opened his eyes. As he did, something bright caught them.

  His wedding jacket. Made of emerald-colored sea silk, it was hanging in a corner of his room. He’d lied about the fitting appointment. It had been tailored days ago. A servant must’ve brought it into the room earlier this afternoon. It was buttoned up, finished, all ready for him to wear.

  “Five days,” he whispered, sitting up.

  A grim smile played over his features as Lucia’s voice echoed in his head. You can sing your vows….

  “Yes, I can. And I will,” he said quietly.

  He would do what he had to do until then. He’d smile and joke and play the part of the happy bridegroom for four more days.

  And then, on the night of the fifth day, when the moon had risen, he would take that jacket off its hanger, and dress for his wedding.

  And his funeral.

  A SOUND—A LONG, screeching scrape—woke Serafina.

  Metal, she thought groggily, opening her eyes. Metal on stone. Lucia’s executioner must be sharpening his ax.

  Her vision was blurry. Her body ached. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. Hours? Days? She felt weak. Her head was impossibly heavy, but she raised it nonetheless. It was over. She would die now, but she would die like the regina she was—looking death squarely in the eye.

  Sera was not afraid of death, but she was crushed by the knowledge of her failure. She’d allowed herself to be captured and now she was powerless to stop Orfeo, and her uncle. She’d failed her friends and her merfolk, and she’d failed in her quest to destroy Abbadon. Would the others make it to the Southern Sea? Would they be able to destroy the monster? Sera would never know. In her struggle to stay one stroke ahead of her uncle, she’d forgotten the danger Lucia posed. Her rival hadn’t merely moved or countermoved, she’d swept the game pieces right off the board.

  Sera tried to move her arms now but couldn’t; they were bound by her sides. Her tail was immobilized, too.

  “Shackles,” she whispered. “Shackles and chains.”

  They were all that was left to her. She had nothing. No weapon. No troops. No friends by her side.

  Her vision cleared. Feeble light, shining from above, illuminated a cave shaggy with algae. Feathery tube worms clung to the walls. Long-legged brittlestars crept across the ceiling.

  Is this the dungeon? she wondered, glancing around. It didn’t look like one. Where were the guards? Where was the executioner?

  She looked down at her body and saw that she wasn’t actually shackled. Instead, she was encased in what looked like a cocoon. A fine metal filament had been wound around her body all the way from her tail fins to her neck. Another length of filament ran from the cocoon to the cave’s ceiling, suspending her over a pile of bones and skulls, some yellowed with age, others fresh and bloody.

  “No!” Sera uttered in a choked voice. Suddenly it all made sense…the cave, the scraping sound—metal on stone.

  I want you to suffer, Lucia had said.

  And Sera knew that she would. Her death would be agonizing. Her executioner’s venom would paralyze her, just like the sea scorpion’s had, but this creature had more than a barb in its tail. It had fangs, and they were twelve inches long.

  The scraping sound grew louder. The thing making it drew closer.

  As Sera watched, a nightmare loomed out of the darkness: Alítheia, the murderous bronze sea spider.

  THE SPIDER’S CURVED fangs were only inches from Sera’s face. She cocked her head, examining Sera with her eight black eyes.

  “Finally awake! But only ssskin and bonesss!” she hissed unhappily, prodding Sera with
a hooked claw. “No meat for Alítheia!”

  “Alítheia, please listen to me—”

  “No! You mussst lisssten. Alítheia isss not ready to eat yet, but sssoon, sssoon,” the spider said, rubbing her front claws together. “Alítheia will bring food. You will eat it. Moon jelliesss, yesss. To make you plump!”

  The spider turned and scuttled off.

  “Wait!” Sera begged. “You can’t kill me! I’m Serafina, the rightful heiress to Miromara’s throne!

  The spider waved a leg at Sera. “Everyone sssaysss thisss,” she hissed, without even turning around.

  “Alítheia, please,” Sera said, her voice breaking. “It’s the truth! Taste my blood!”

  “I will, mermaid, I will.”

  And then she was gone, moving off toward the far end of the cave. Light shone down there from an iron grille that covered the outside entrance to the spider’s den, which was in the center of the kolisseo, an outdoor arena. Alítheia scuttled up the craggy walls toward it, and stuck a leg out through the bars.

  She’s fishing for moon jellies, Sera thought.

  As Sera desperately tried to figure out how to convince the spider not to eat her, Alítheia suddenly shrieked. The next thing Sera knew, the spider was frantically clambering back down the wall.

  A burst of bright light followed her, nearly hitting her, then exploded like a bomb on the floor of the cave, hissing and bubbling. It forced her to take cover in a hollow on the other side of the cave’s entrance.

  More bombs came hurting through the grille.

  “Lava globes,” Sera whispered.

  The lava was followed by laughter and taunts. Sera recognized the voices—they belonged to Feuerkumpel goblins.

  “Help!” she shouted. “Is anyone there? Somebody please help me!”

  The goblins only laughed harder. They imitated her pleas for help, then chucked more lava bombs.

  I can’t die here, I can’t! she thought wildly. Miromara needs me; my friends need me to help defeat Abbadon.

  She remembered the vision Vrăja had shown to her and her friends of the monster destroying Atlantis. She remembered the fire, the screaming, the blood. So many had suffered and died then. So many more would now, if Orfeo managed to free his creature.

  Sera’s fear turned into fury. She struggled and thrashed, trying to break out of the cocoon. But all she succeeded in doing was tiring herself. She lowered her head, spent.

  The cruel goblin voices were in her ears, in her head. Their taunts, telling her she was going to die slowly and painfully, were all she could hear. Then, tiring of their sport, they moved off, and Sera become aware of another voice.

  “Principessa Serafina? Can it be?”

  Sera’s breath caught. She thought she recognized the voice, but she was afraid to hope. “Fossegrim?” she called out.

  “Yes, it is I!” he shouted back.

  Her old friend, the liber magus! “Where are you?” Sera shouted.

  “Below you,” Fossegrim replied.

  Serafina twisted and strained, trying to see him. She spotted him to her left. “Are you in a cocoon, too?” she asked him.

  “Indeed I am.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I and my fellow Black Fins were found in the Ostrokon on the same day Vallerio returned to Cerulea. Death riders have been interrogating me ever since, for months and months, but I’ve given them nothing. They must’ve finally realized it was hopeless, for they threw me into the spider’s lair six days ago.”

  Sera knew all too well how Traho interrogated his prisoners. She could only imagine what the brave old merman had gone through.

  “Fossegrim, are you…are you…”

  “Still in once piece?” he asked. There was a short silence, then, “Let’s just say I shall find it difficult to shelve conchs again.”

  “Your fingers…” Sera said in a choked voice.

  “Indeed, child. What he didn’t cut off, he broke.”

  “He’ll pay for this,” Sera said vehemently, furious that Traho had hurt this wise, gentle merman. “I swear to the gods, he’ll pay.”

  She tried once more to break free of the cocoon, to no avail. Not only was she weak, she was hungry, too.

  “Fossegrim, do you know how long I’ve been here?”

  “Five days. Alítheia dragged you in the day after she dragged me here,” Fossegrim replied. “She said you’d been left in a tunnel. You’ve been unconscious all that time.”

  Which means I’ve been in Cerulea for, what? Sera wondered. Eight or nine days? Ten?

  “I feared you were dead, but Alítheia said you were full of scorpion’s venom. She was angry. She wanted to eat you right away, but she said your flesh would be bitter until the venom wore off. I’m afraid she ate something—someone—else in the meantime,” he added.

  “Has she threatened to eat you?”

  He shook his head. “She says I’m old and tough and she’s only keeping me around as a last resort.” He chuckled. “Makes me feel like a sweet that nobody wants, one with a sea urchin center.”

  “We need to escape before she eats either of us, and I haven’t a clue how to make that happen,” Sera said. “If only I had my sword or dagger, I could cut my way out.”

  Fossegrim cleared his throat. “I find that success—in extricating oneself from captivity, or in any endeavor, really—comes down, essentially, to belief.”

  Sera had forgotten the liber magus’s exasperating tendency to pontificate. There was a time and place for his wordy ramblings, but this definitely wasn’t it.

  “So, all we have to do is believe we’ll get out of here, and we will?” she asked skeptically.

  “Precisely,” Fossegrim replied. “Belief leads to action, and action leads to success. If you do not believe you can get out of here, you’ll give up, do nothing, and merely dangle uselessly, waiting for the end to come. However, if you do believe escape is possible, you’ll snap into action and use all the weapons at your disposal to attain your liberty.”

  Sera rolled her eyes. “Fossegrim, maybe you haven’t realized this, but I don’t have any weapons. I can’t even move my hands. I’m in a cocoon!”

  Fossegrim sighed deeply, as he often had in his ostrokon when confronted by a particularly dense student.

  “Is it not strange that this creature that inspires such great fear in so many, is—at this moment—so full of fear herself?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the grille.

  The goblins had left, but Alítheia was still huddled in the hollow where she’d taken cover, cringing and hissing.

  “For four thousand years, the anarachna has been carrying out the task with which Merrow charged her: to ascertain who is fit for the throne,” he continued, his eyes still on the spider. “Yet she’s reviled. Taunted. Banished to a dark cave under the seafloor. What poor recompense for such long and faithful service.” He shifted his gaze back to Sera. “You do have a weapon, child. Can you not see it?”

  Serafina was about to argue with him when she heard Vrăja’s voice in her head again, as she did so often in times of trouble. Nothing is more powerful than love.

  Love. It was easy to feel it for Mahdi, her friends, her merfolk. It was a lot harder to feel it for a giant bronze spider that wanted to eat her.

  Sera saw what Fossegrim was trying to say, though—that the anarachna, like any creature, deserved to be treated kindly. With respect. Even love.

  Sera would try to do that now. She had no choice.

  Love was the only weapon she had left.

  A LONG BRONZE LEG, articulated at the joints and tipped by a dagger-sharp claw, poked out of the hollow. It was followed by another, and several more, and then the anarachna emerged fully.

  Sera watched her, knowing she had only minutes to put her plan in motion. The bloodbind had given her some of her five friends’ talents. She summoned Ava’s gift of sight now, focusing it on the spider.

  For a few tense seconds, she sensed nothing. Then an image of high,
impenetrable walls came into her mind. She felt various emotions as she concentrated on the image: anger, fear, but most of all, sadness.

  Sera knew that she would have to tap into those emotions if she had any chance of engaging Alítheia, but she’d have to proceed slowly. The spider had built walls around her feelings for a reason, and drawing them out would be a delicate task. Sera had seen Alítheia in a rage during her Dokimí, when the spider learned she wouldn’t be able to eat Sera, and Sera knew how quickly Alítheia could become violent. If Sera wasn’t careful, she’d set the creature off and get herself killed.

  “Alítheia, are you okay? Did you get hurt?” she asked gently.

  “A sssmall burn only. But Alítheia found no moon jelliesss. Ssshe mussst hunt them elsssewhere. You mussst eat them, ssso ssshe can eat you,” the spider said, crawling past Sera.

  “Alítheia, wait!” Sera called out, desperate to keep the spider talking. “Why do the goblins throw lava at you?”

  “Becaussse they are cruel. Like the commander. Like hisss daughter. Thisss isss how thingsss are now.”

  Vallerio and Lucia, Sera thought grimly. They’re setting a fine example, as always.

  “The goblins shouted at you. What did they say?”

  The spider stopped. She turned around. Hope leapt in Sera.

  “They sssaid, ‘We made you, Alítheia. And we can kill you, too.’ Why sssay sssuch thingsss? They did make Alítheia, but ssshe desspisssesss them! Neria iss the one who breathed life into Alítheia, not the ssstinking goblinsss. Merrow isss the one who gave her purpossse.”

  The spider shook her head sorrowfully as she spoke.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Sera.

  “The goblinsss taunt Alítheia becaussse they are afraid of her,” said the spider. “Her purpossse is to ssscare all thossse who would take the throne of Miromara, but ssshe ssscaresss everyone, not just impossstersss.”

  “Maybe we could change that,” Sera ventured, hoping to soften the creature.

  “No,” Alítheia said brusquely. “Merrow made Alítheia thisss way, and none can change her. Ssshe wanted Alítheia to frighten enemiesss of the throne, becaussse ssshe hersssself was frightened.”