Shattered by the Sea Lord (Lords of Atlantis Book 8)

by Starla Night

  Angie crossed her arms.

  “You’re looking at it,” Meg said.

  “Then, the first step is to shift your feet into fins.”

  Ciran flexed below the ankle. The middle of his foot unfolded and elongated, stretching the skin tight as his bones shifted to a scuba diver’s fin. His tattoos stretched, still intricate and beautiful, the coffee brown and leaf green patterns always circling each other, never quite touching.

  He flexed and his fin returned into a human foot. “Now, you do it.”

  “My feet don’t fold that way,” Angie said flatly. “And I wore a tremendous number of heels.”

  “No bride has ever failed to transform.”

  “I might be the first.”

  “Mom.” Meg rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a drama queen.”

  Angie flopped her ankles, wiggling with great irritation, as though under protest.

  Bex focused. “Show me again.”

  Ciran did so, patient as ever. “Partly it is flexing the muscle, and partly it is pushing your soul light to glow. Once you have found your center of power, growing it is a matter of practice. You will conquer any army, destroy any opposition.”

  Angie frowned.

  Ciran gazed at Dannika. His truth burned into her soul.

  I believe in you.

  Dannika closed her eyes and believed him.

  Her toes tingled.

  Was that it?

  As soon as she wondered, the tingling dissipated. She opened her eyes. Her toes were the same as before. Hmm.

  “You shifted,” Ciran vibrated, and smiled. “Just a small motion. But your belief is your strength.”

  Well, his belief was, anyway.

  “You shifted?” Meg whirled on her. Little glowing bits stuck to her face, and a cloud of shrimp buzzed around her toes like a subtle beehive. “Oh my God. How?”

  “Show me,” Bex said.

  “Sure, um…it’s trickier to do it on command…”

  “You will develop this ability,” Ciran said. “It is an essential skill of all queens.”

  No pressure or anything.

  The women awaited her answer.

  “I just closed my eyes and thought I could.” Dannika closed her eyes, but the sensations of everyone staring at her killed the magic. “I’ll practice.”

  “But you feel it. You feel something,” Meg pressed.

  “Yes.”

  Everyone tried with renewed determination.

  Ciran stopped in front of Angie. “You can never transform when your soul is this dark.”

  “Mom.” Meg rounded on her. “You’ve got to try.”

  “I am.” She crossed her arms even tighter, then threw them out in a trembling panic. “This warrior stuff isn’t for me. What am I even trying to do? Bend a spoon? Or what, levitate?”

  “You already levitate in the water. What is your question about spoons?”

  “I just—what, exactly, is the point of all this? What am I supposed to do with these so-called powers?”

  “You are supposed to save a warrior and his son,” Ciran said. “And free your family from the Luscan’s reign of terror, bringing peace to this territory and harmony to the ocean.”

  She lowered her shoulders, her expression slowly changing to acceptance, and her lips quirked to the side. “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I could give it another try.”

  “There we go, Mom.” Meg squeezed her arm.

  She patted her daughter’s hand, then lifted her chin. “What are the three powers again?”

  “Pushing, shielding, and healing.”

  “And how do I know which one I possess?”

  “You possess all of them, but you will have an affinity for one over the others. A natural preference.”

  She flexed her fingers. “Pushing? Shielding…Ladies, do you know yours?”

  “Pushing,” Bex said.

  “I have no idea,” Meg said.

  “Healing,” Bex said.

  Angie agreed. “Meg, your power is probably healing.”

  “Really? Because I could definitely go for shielding myself or pushing those squids away. Oh, Dannika.” She reached out and brushed a finger over the ghostly bruises on Dannika’s abdomen. “Did you have plum liqueur with lunch? I’ll make you a cold wrap with it after dinner. It makes a huge difference. Last year, when Tulu fell out of a tree and broke his leg, I was on twenty-four-hour poultice duty with him, and he was good to fall out of more trees in, like, days.”

  Her belly tingled where Meg had touched it, and white sparkles filled the pool. Dannika’s bruises dissipated.

  “I think you just healed me with your touch,” Dannika said.

  Meg laughed, chest vibrating, and waved her away. “That’s just the plankton. They always sparkle when I’m around.”

  Dannika looked at Ciran and pointed to her belly.

  He inspected her. “A very strong power.”

  Meg argued more but was overruled by the truth.

  “Great. So I have healing and squid powers.” Meg flicked here fingers to dislodge the plankton which, for some reason, only stuck to her. “I think pushing or shielding would be more useful.”

  “At least you know what you are,” Angie said placidly.

  “What happens after fins?” Bex asked Ciran.

  “After? First, you must make your fins, and then—” He made a noise of surprise.

  Bex’s feet dangled as long fins. Unlike Dannika’s brief stretch, they extended all the way.

  She’d done it.

  Meg exclaimed. “How did you do that?”

  Bex shrugged. “I thought maybe I could do it some time ago. This time, I didn’t stop myself.”

  “Amazing…”

  Ciran pressed his hands to his chest. “From the same place, channel your power.”

  “Anywhere?” Bex asked.

  “Just point your hands in a direction. Ah.” He kicked to the side. “Allow me to stay out of your way.”

  Bex eyed the nearest stalagmite. Then she lifted her hands. Her fingers glowed.

  A band of white zapped out and struck the stalagmite. The rock cracked.

  Holy moly.

  The tenor of the ocean changed, with sea life speeding up their music and fleeing from the incredible power.

  “Very good.” Ciran beamed at Bex. “You have excellent control and power.”

  Bex formed her hands in fists and looked at the other women. “When do we go to Lusca?”

  Meg shared a rueful glance with Angie and then Dannika. “Sorry, Bex. We’ll work harder, won’t we, guys?”

  “You will improve faster by increasing your resonance.” Ciran kicked to the ledge. “I will collect the warriors.”

  He kicked and disappeared.

  Excitement buzzed in the water.

  Dannika squeezed her Sea Opal and focused her energy on it. Her toes tingled. Things were going well.

  Maybe they could find their powers right now. They could leave the island, get Val medical help, and she could warn Hazel about the sabotage.

  They would work together and get off this island. Because the women had the power, and their loving warriors believed in them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “The women have no power,” Konomelu said to Ciran when he interrupted the conference with Itime in an isolated area of the coral. “Angie resists. Dannika cannot perform under combat conditions. Meg cannot even enter the ocean.”

  Itime nodded.

  “We cannot rely on them,” Konomelu said. “They may use their powers in a calm lagoon. But we must storm a city.”

  “Bex already showed great power,” Ciran argued. “She pushed out great energy and broke a rock.”

  “Bex has no warrior to protect her,” Konomelu said.

  “Once the other queens have developed their powers, they will shield her.”

  “We were both impressed with Dannika’s demonstration. But today, we also witnessed its failure. Our brides are not warriors. Distractions, loss
of concentration in battle—we struggle with training our young fry in these shallow waters. How can we train a bride in a power we cannot even understand?”

  “Dannika will improve with practice,” Ciran insisted. “And yes, Bex leaves her back unguarded, but once we ensure her protection, she will be unstoppable.”

  Itime raised one finger. “Are you willing to stake Bex’s life on this?”

  Because if their brides went out into the ocean and their powers failed, the warriors would of course protect their brides.

  Who would protect Bex?

  Over on the reef, the trainees were conducting familiar shallow-water exercises. Nuno, Hadali, and Tulu supervised the younger warriors.

  Their bare skin stood out.

  A warrior’s first tattoos were for simple accomplishments such as swimming around the limits of the city’s territory alone. Patrols swept the territory clear in advance, but there was always a small element of danger. Next would come joining the hunts for deep ocean fish, crafting weapons from the deep sea beds, and expertise in fighting.

  But Nuno, Hadali, and Tulu couldn’t even receive their very first tattoo because they had never swum the length of a city’s territory.

  They could not.

  Because they were stuck in this shallow island reef.

  And out beyond the coral lattice floated the patrolling warriors who would never let them escape. Not unless they forced their way to freedom.

  “Without a warrior to protect Bex, it is too dangerous to take her into the open ocean,” Konomelu said gravely.

  “You cannot enter Lusca without the queens,” Ciran said.

  “We must. And, we have figured out a way to do so.” Konomelu puffed his chest. “I am no Undine, but even I can strategize.”

  Ciran raised a brow. “Your description of Lusca is a typical mer city.”

  “Listen and learn, Undine. I mean, Atlantean.”

  Konomelu pointed out various features of the reef, asking him to pretend that a certain coral spire was the Life Tree and another spire was the king’s castle. Those rocks were the prisons beneath the city, and this serpentine crevice represented the trench.

  “All we must do is slip past the patrols. The king stations city guards here, here, here-here, and here-here-here-here.”

  “And here.” Itime pointed out yet another spot.

  That was more guards than Atlantis and Undine. “That is quite a few guards for a ‘typical’ mer city.”

  “They rotate frequently based on the mood of the king. Anyway. Prince Ankena, if he survived the trench, must be near the top.”

  “Because the kraken lies deep beneath,” Itime said.

  “The king drops his captives in the center as a demonstration of power. Prince Ankena must have swum to one of these distant outcroppings. He will be just beneath the first ledge, surviving on trench fish he has wrestled with his bare hands. All we must do is avoid their deadly holes and bring him to safety.” Konomelu pressed his hands together with pride. “Not bad for an old warrior, right?”

  Ciran mentally pushed aside the image of a bare-handed warrior wrestling deadly trench fish that had ended more than a few fully armed warriors. He focused on the knowns. “Just to ensure my proper understanding, Lusca patrols its territory with multiple units and nine rotating guards watch the city limits?”

  “To prevent warrior from defecting,” Konomelu agreed.

  “How many warriors does Lusca station in the city?”

  “Summer or winter?” Konomelu asked.

  “There is a difference?”

  “In the summer, there are more hurricanes, and so more warriors fill the city. In the winter, the weather is more conducive to attacking ships, so two teams deploy with the giant squids. They tether the squids to the far side of the trench.” Konomelu pointed with his old dagger. “Here.”

  Right. Okay. “We’re still in winter, so that field would be empty…”

  “Not necessarily,” Itime said. “It depends on the king’s mood.”

  So the way to the trench was guarded by multiple patrols, nine guards, one or two tethered squids, and one or two additional units trained in attacking with them, plus all the warriors normally stationed within the city.

  And that assumed Konomelu was right, Prince Ankena awaited them in perfect health on the cliff, and they could rescue him easily without alerting any guards.

  “And we must also rescue Lukiyo,” Itime reminded Konomelu.

  “Ah, yes. He will be in the king’s castle.” Konomelu sheathed his dagger and tapped his finger against the worn pommel. “We must draw him out and then capture him before anyone realizes we are there. Yes. Very well. After we rescue Prince Ankena, it will be easier if anyone raises an alarm because we will have four warriors instead of three.”

  That sounded like a nightmare.

  If any single warrior saw them and raised the alarm, an entire city would pit themselves against four warriors.

  Maybe Lotar could attempt it. The city of Syrenka was a cold, dark void in the ocean, and their warriors trained in silence and deception. He’d accomplished many solo missions to gather information, and he had a warrior’s affinity for sharks.

  But Ciran did not possess those skills.

  And Lotar had never tried to rescue someone during his stealth missions. He just gathered information.

  “And then after we have rescued Prince Ankena and Lukiyo, how will you retake the city?” Ciran asked.

  “We will ask Prince Ankena,” Konomelu said confidently, and Itime nodded. “He is a prince. He knows how to do this. We will follow him.”

  Okay. So, no plan.

  “Let us back up.” Ciran deliberately turned away from the coral map. “To leave this island, how will we evade the patrol?”

  “The same way that we divided them to investigate the plane crash.” Konomelu pressed his hand to his chest. “Nuno and I will slip out the chutes and come up beneath the warriors. When they sight and chase us, we will split, dividing their forces. Itime, Tulu, and Hadali will do the same, dividing the remaining patrol. Once they drop off, we will reunite and continue.”

  “But the patrol nearly caught us. Twice.”

  Konomelu waved his hand. “Adult warriors will evade them more easily.”

  “How?”

  “Orike is not so clever.” Konomelu jutted his chin. “But you supposedly are. If my plan is so bad, Undine—I mean, Atlantean—then fix it. How can we rescue Prince Ankena and Lukiyo? And retake the city?”

  “I see two methods.”

  “Two?” Konomelu floated back in surprise. “Very well. Explain.”

  “First, you increase your resonance with your brides and work with them to develop their queen powers. Once they are at combat readiness, we will simply swim past the patrol, glide down to Lusca, float before the Life Tree, and declare ourselves the new rulers. A unit of Luscans will brave the trench to rescue Prince Ankena.”

  “That is all?” Konomelu squinted. “Just swim past the patrol. Glide into Lusca. Declare ourselves the new kings, overthrowing Prince Ankena while we are in the mood.”

  “Queens hold the power, Lieutenant Konomelu.”

  He stiffened at his title, but it was a noble stiffness, as though no one had reminded him of it for a long time.

  “I have witnessed queens defending their city with my own eyes. They were far more effective than warriors. Lusca has not faced a real adversary before. I doubt they are prepared for the power of our queens.”

  Itime raised a finger. “And Meg’s affliction?”

  “She will summon the squids to her side and, if needed, use them in battle.”

  He lowered his finger.

  “How convenient.” Konomelu rubbed his brow. “You have an answer for everything. Too bad it depends on brides who have even less experience than our youngest trainees.”

  “Then we will give them experience,” Ciran said.

  “How?” Konomelu slammed his palm to his chest. “I cannot give my
sons experience. How can I give it to my vulnerable sacred bride?”

  Ciran ticked off the ways on his fingers. “Increase her resonance. Give her small tasks. Watch her confidence brighten her soul light. And then? She must face the patrol here.”

  “Never.” Konomelu slashed the water with the flat of his hand. “Never suggest such a thing to me again, Undine. I will cut your tongue out with a blade and feed it to bottle worms.”

  Heat flashed through Ciran. His heart leaped in his chest. He flexed his fingers.

  “We will do my plan.” Konomelu turned away.

  Ciran gritted his teeth. “Your plan is suicide.”

  “And what of it?” He whirled back. “I would die a thousand times before my bride goes before that jelly-for-brains Orike. If one warrior even dares to point a trident in her direction. If he even unsheathes a dagger. No.”

  “You are stronger together.”

  “Stop this talking.” He waved his hand by his ear, even though they communicated by vibrating in their chests. Some surface gestures carried over no matter how long they lived underwater. “I will not hear it.”

  “You do not know a queen’s power.”

  “I saw all I needed to see when yours failed.”

  Another hit of fury vibrated into Ciran’s veins. “Dannika has only begun to try. Other queens practiced a hundred times before—”

  “And our brides have had twenty years to make fins. We cannot rely on them, and I will not hear you.”

  “Because you have encouraged them to hide their abilities from the patrol. If we encouraged their abilities, they will—”

  “When I want your opinion, I will ask for it!” Konomelu roared.

  Ciran flexed for a weapon. Trident, dagger, chunk of coral. But his crowbar was on the beach and he had broken his borrowed coral dagger.

  So, he lifted his fist—the rudest gesture he could think of—and whirled before any of them could answer. He swam directly for the dead coral lattice.

  “Hey,” Konomelu called. “Hey!”

  The Luscan warriors floated out in the ocean.

  “Warriors!” He shouted through the lattice, vibrating hard to carry his hail the distance. “Luscan warriors!”

  The patrol rotated to face him. Lieutenant Orike’s sharp eyes narrowed. The patrol bristled with daggers, tridents, bolas, and other weapons. Would they really not cross the coral lattice? In places it was solid, but in others, an armed male could easily swim through.