by Starla Night
“Shhh.” Tulu veered sharply to one side.
Hadali vibrated softly. “What?”
“Don’t you hear? My father beat us.”
Uh oh.
Vibrations—war cries—echoed across the open ocean. “Itime… We will end you…”
And Tulu was correct.
The cries hadn’t come from behind them.
They came from around the far side of the island and grew louder. If Ciran and the trainees continued toward the coral, their enemies would arrive first and cut them off.
Especially since Dannika’s soul darkened again, causing that matching weakness in his own body.
“We’ll go to the cave.” Hadali kicked with new urgency. “It’s a low, narrow entrance but the raft should fit.”
A small, agitated squid bumped into Tulu, whirled around, and latched onto his head.
He smacked it off.
It made an indignant blat and squirted ink before fleeing directly into the mouth of a waiting grouper.
Ciran focused on speed.
They rounded the corner of the island, fleeing from the ever-growing shouts.
“Just a little farther,” Hadali vibrated, kicking furiously.
New war cries sounded ahead of them.
Was it the rest of the patrol? The warriors that had remained at the island?
They were racing right into a trap.
A little earlier…
Ciran was fine.
Nothing was wrong.
Dannika repeated that mantra from the moment he disappeared over the side. They’d traveled at least an hour, and they were still in the middle of the ocean.
There was no way the Luscans were surrounding them and tightening like a noose.
No way.
Ciran was fine.
Nothing was wrong.
She lay flat on her back in the moving raft and used her long sleeves to shield her tender face from the sun.
How sharp were tridents?
Sharp, probably. They could do a lot of damage.
How fast could Ciran heal?
A lot slower on the surface, so far from his Life Tree.
Ugh. She should have collected more than one bottle of elixir.
“Dannika?”
She dropped her hands. The late afternoon sky was a pale blue fading into white. “Yeah?”
Val hunched under a sunshade made from an inside-out duffel bag. She’d rinsed her face. Blood matted in her curly brown hair. She lofted the bottled Sea Opal elixir. “Is this going to shift me into a mermaid?”
“Not unless your soul mate is a merman.”
“You sure?”
“There are only two documented cases of women spontaneously transforming. One turned out to be the daughter of a merman.”
“Oh yeah, weren’t they supposed to only have sons? And didn’t she grow up somewhere landlocked, like Omaha?”
“Yes, so she never swam until she was an adult. It was quite the surprise. The other, I’m actually guilty of matching her with the wrong warrior. She felt something was wrong, but she had transformed. Then, after checking security cameras, we discovered that she’d been exposed to her real soul mate just hours earlier. It was a mess.”
“Huh.”
“So as I said, as long as your soul mate isn’t a merman, you will only receive the healing components of the Sea Opals. You won’t transform.”
“If my soul mate is a merman, my wife is going to smack me into next Tuesday.” Val swigged the elixir. “It tastes like tap water.”
“New York’s finest.”
“And it’s supposed to heal me?”
“Ciran can see it shine. I still can’t, though.”
“Right, they can see all sorts of things we can’t, like souls.” She swigged again. It really looked like ordinary bottled water refilled from the tap. “Mm. How do I know when I’ve got enough?”
“I don’t know.”
Their raft bumped and jolted abruptly.
The Luscans were attacking!
Dannika bolted upright. “Is he okay? Does he need the crowbar?”
Val peered over the side. “Huh?”
“The Luscans. Are we under attack?”
“No, I don’t think so. We ran over one of those weird flatfish. You know, the ones that look like they only have half a body?”
Dannika joined her. That side of the raft dipped.
“It’s gone,” Val said.
Their raft banged over the top of something else.
“Oops, it’s back. It’s like a fish head with a tail fin glued on, and no middle.”
“It’s a sunfish.” Dannika retreated to her last resting spot. “They like warmth.”
“Well, there you go. We’re running over fish. Seems to go a lot better for them than it does the armadillos.”
“Yeah.”
She tried to relax. There was plenty to get upset about, so she shouldn’t waste her time worrying over nothing. Ciran was more capable than that. If he were in trouble, she’d know.
But…
Dannika encircled her left hand, testing the scratched, bony knuckle of her ring finger.
It was empty.
For the first time in almost twenty years, her ring was off. It had disappeared during the plane crash or rescue.
It wasn’t just that she’d lost the last token of Eliot.
Ciran could disappear just as suddenly. One moment be here and the next be gone. Warriors’ lives were far more dangerous than an upper-class Jewish boy’s in Layhill.
She squeezed her fingers.
“Oh, lordy. I must be feeling better.” Val tentatively touched her forehead, where she’d washed the cut to a reasonable gash. “I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever fly again. I love it so much. But…” She shook her head. Tears glistened in her eyes.
Dannika sat up. “You will. You absolutely will.”
Val hiccupped.
Dannika eased to her side of the raft and gave her a hug. “You’ll put this behind you. Just think of how great it will feel to get back in the pilot’s seat.”
Val sniffled and nodded.
“It’ll be even better the next time around,” Dannika said. As if she would know. Ha. How easy it was to counsel Val to get back on the horse—winged, in this case—when Dannika couldn’t handle ten minutes of a second relationship. “But it’s also just fine to ease back into it, take your time, and don’t worry if it doesn’t go well right at the beginning. Just, you know, keep breathing. Sit in the seat. Hold the controls. Soon, you’ll be ready to fly once more.”
Yeah. That’s right.
Fear was natural. She just had to work through it. And Ciran was so understanding. With Ciran’s help, she would—
“Huh?” Val pulled back and gave her a funny look. “No, I mean, there’s going to be an investigation. They could take away my license. And even if they don’t rule against me, I might never get another job. Running out of gas is amateur hour, and here I am carrying passengers.”
Oh.
Dannika patted her arm again. “Wasn’t it sabotage?”
“I should have caught it. I should have double-checked.” Val touched the scab matting her hair and winced. “You know how some kids get bedtime stories? My pappy read accident reports. Before I took the crop duster up, he made me visualize what to do. ‘Pretend somebody’s trying to screw you, Val,’ he used to say. ‘Where would they do it? How?’ My commercial instructor said I had the most thorough pre-flight check he’d ever seen. And then this.”
“So how did they screw you?”
“I don’t know.” She held her forehead. “If I think about it any harder, I’m going to give myself a migraine. Worse than I already have, I mean.”
“Don’t dwell,” Dannika advised. “You have a head injury. And besides, we—”
“I’ve got it.” Val rocked under the sunshade, dislodging one of the poles she was using to keep it in place, and fumbled to fix it to get the precious shade back. “The problem wa
s in the third tank. Because I had to switch tanks, right? On a schedule, to keep the plane balanced. And it was after that third switch, the fuel didn’t flow. I couldn’t switch back. Something jammed. I cycled everything, as you do, and did my maydays. Ah.” She shook her head again. “This is going to drive me crazy. I just know it.”
“Could it have been a regular engine failure?”
“Sure, maybe, except that somebody took out the EPIRB.” Val sorted through the emergency supplies floating in the raft's bottom and enumerated everything that was missing, including their emergency locator beacon. “It happened in Bermuda. I did a full check before signing out the plane in New York like I always do. In fact, now that I think about it, the kit was missing a few things in New York. I had to get a different one, and I reported the problem to the company. Then in Bermuda, the same things went missing, only I wasn’t out of the plane for longer than two hours. At least they left us the raft.”
“So it was sabotage.”
“If not attempted murder.” A piece of paper fell out of the upside-down bag and onto Val’s shoulder. “Oh, what’s this?” Val flipped it over.
A side profile of a classical era male with a beard was inside a circle.
Ugh.
Of course.
“Holy Zeus,” Val said.
“Hercules.” Dannika tapped the page. “That’s a side profile. Middle Roman era. You can tell because of the stylized beard. They’ve gone through a few logos, but that’s the current calling card for the Sons of Hercules.”
“Terrorists.” Val stowed the paper in a waterproof bag for evidence. “I can’t wait until we land. I’m going to call it in. My wife’s going to be so worried. And we’ve got to find the saboteur before they hurt your other mermen.”
Dannika flexed for her cell phone. Was Hazel in danger? Or Starr? She had no way to warn them. Her phone was somewhere below, in the abyss.
Gone, just like Eliot’s ring.
The raft approached an isolated tropical island surrounded by a ring of bleached coral. Was this Sanctuary? She squinted at the foreign land. Getting off the raft, drying out, and contacting Hazel were her top priorities.
The empty shores looked ominous.
The raft drifted to the right. The beach disappeared and the coral connected to tall cliffs where island birds cooed and cawed. The raft slowed to a stop again, flowed against the current, and then hovered.
“They can’t decide which way to go.” Val uncapped the elixir. Her face seemed paler like it wasn’t working. “Like me, right before—oh!”
The raft jolted forward. The elixir sloshed out and splashed Val in the face. She recapped it and huddled in the bottom of the raft.
Around them, the water swirled with danger.
The crowbar rolled toward Dannika. She seized it. The thick metal was heavy and unwieldy, and it felt wrong in her hand. But it was what she had.
She clung to the raft and readied herself to attack.
Chapter Eleven
Ciran and the trainees kicked hard. The raft flew along the undersea cliffs. The trainees looked over their shoulders.
“I hear warriors ahead,” Ciran said.
“If it’s at the cave, Konomelu will make sure we get through,” Hadali said.
“What about…?” Tulu said cryptically.
“No, no. Your brothers wouldn’t start a race now. They know how important our mission is. They’d stay in the shallows and would never dream of getting in our way.”
Waving lines in the rock cliff led to a cavern entrance. The entrance above the water looked low and narrow. Vines draped into the seawater. Dannika and Val would have to duck.
In the raft above, their souls darkened.
His calves and thighs weakened in response.
Believe in us, Dannika.
Shouts behind them grew louder and then abruptly went quiet. Ciran’s stomach constricted. The silence was much worse. It meant they focused on speed.
The Luscan warriors chasing Itime must have seen the raft and realized that much more was at stake than running after a long-standing nemesis.
He tried to kick harder. The raft bounced on the rough current near the cliffs.
On the other side of the cave, two careless trainees paddled underwater around the island. Laughing and whooping, they looked over their shoulders at a pursuer—and not at the raft bearing down on them.
“Uh oh,” Tulu said.
“Look out!” Hadali cried.
Tulu’s brothers faced forward, saw them, and pulled up in shock.
They blocked the cave entrance.
“Move!”
The brothers knocked into each other.
Lieutenant Orike’s deadly order came from far too close behind Ciran. “Get the Undine.”
Itime cut in front of the raft, hooked his sons one with each arm, and zoomed into the cave.
The raft crashed through instants later. The sides wedged on the rocks. Tulu yanked it. Pop. The plastic tore and the raft limped inside.
Hadali and last Ciran crossed the threshold into the cavern mouth.
The jagged tip of a trident flickered at the edge of Ciran’s periphery.
He released the raft and whirled to face the Luscans.
Lieutenant Orike’s lips curled in a snarl. His arm drew back and he thrust the trident at Ciran’s bare chest.
Clang.
Another trident, held by a warrior on Ciran’s left, parried the thrust.
Ciran kicked deeper into the cave.
Lieutenant Orike jerked his trident free. “Konomelu. How dare you violate the terms of your exile?”
Konomelu, the warrior who had saved Ciran, growled. “How dare you violate the sacred church, Orike?”
“He is Lieutenant,” one warrior vibrated from outside.
“Not to me.”
The other warriors who had chased the raft stopped outside. Only Orike had entered the cave. He floated now just inside the lip.
“Taking in humans and other exiles violates the agreement.” Lieutenant Orike waved his trident at Ciran. “I have every right to slaughter the Undine.”
“After you get through me.” Konomelu brandished his trident.
“And me.” Itime flew to Konomelu’s side and they formed a wall defending Ciran from the Luscans. “Spill no blood in the sacred church.”
“Or what?” Lieutenant Orike sneered at the cluster of youths, who had doubled or maybe tripled in number, and crowded the cavern behind Ciran. “The sacred brides are long dead.”
“Ours are—”
“Yours are anathema. Even the weak All-Council would say that. The king should take all your young fry and give them a proper education before you turn them into dim-souled, land-bound humans.”
“Try it and die,” Konomelu snarled. The furious orange tattoos shimmered on his skin and his tendons stood out in sharp relief.
“I should.” But Lieutenant Orike turned away. “I cannot wait until you are all dead, and I can serve my king in a noble role that better fits me.”
He kicked through a cloud of squid. One bumped into the lieutenant. He sliced it in half with his trident, deflating it like a bubbling human balloon. It dropped in ribbons, and the other squids clustered around the free snack.
One of the older youths pushed past Ciran. “How could you leave us, Orike? You make such a handsome squid-herder.”
The rest of the youths tittered.
Konomelu patted the youth’s shoulder with approval.
Lieutenant Orike stopped and turned back, eyes narrowed. “Nuno. Your true king awaits the day you venture out of shallow waters and realize you are more than a caretaker for young fry.”
Nuno’s jaw flexed.
Like the other youths, Nuno had mostly bare skin with a tattoo of foreign creatures and plants over his heart. But unlike the others, he his chest had broadened into a warriors’, and his daggers fastened to thighs and biceps that had filled out to an adult’s measure.
“Do you never wis
h to become a warrior?” Lieutenant Orike pushed.
For the shortest moment, a dark longing stole over the male. And then it disappeared. A cocky grin split Nuno’s face. “Sure, but then I remember I’d have to look you in the eye and pretend to respect you. I’d rather strap myself to a pair of electric eels.”
The youths tittered again.
“So be it.” Lieutenant Orike kicked to his warriors. He assigned one to patrol and led the rest into deeper water.
The youths jeered at the Luscans. “Squid-sucking sunfishes! Jelly-for-brains sea slugs!”
Konomelu shooed the taunting youths. “Enough, my trainees, enough.”
The youths swam deep into the cavern.
Konomelu and Itime rolled a boulder along a groove. It grated against the stone and sealed the cavern.
Neat but ultimately useless.
“What two warriors can close, other warriors can open,” Ciran said.
“We do not close out the warriors.” Konomelu released the boulder and floated to Ciran. “We close out those wretched squids.”
Fresh cuts nicked his forearms, but he was surprisingly healthy for an exile.
“I am Konomelu of Sanctuary.” He waved a hand at Itime. “You have met my colleague.”
Itime nodded.
“Once we served together as lieutenants of Lusca. Now?” He rotated to take in the shallow cavern lagoon filled with excited young fry and a deflating, sinking raft. “This is our city.”
The water level was twice as deep as Ciran was tall, but for a mer, it was the shallowest of pools.
But they had started the formal introductions, so Ciran stiffened and made the salute of Atlantis. “I am Ciran.”
“What is an Undine doing with two humans?” Konomelu asked.
“I am formerly Undine.”
Their brows both lifted. Itime’s subtly curled around his trident.
A warrior never voluntarily left a city, and only the worst crime resulted in exile.
He pushed through the discomfort. “Now, I am from Atlantis.”
“Atlantis?” Konomelu’s chin jerked back. “The ancient fable?
The two warriors moved to form a subtle wall separating him from the rest of their haven. He’d given them two answers they disliked.