Dark Depths

by Lani Lenore

  Thaddeus was aware then, turning to the sound of roaring water. Behind the ship, a spout erupted, a column that rose above the vessel, and riding atop it were three of the most horrible creatures to ever be seen by human eyes. Ellister himself had never fathomed their appearance. The nymphs did not try to mask their monstrous appearance with an illusion. Ellister himself had never seen them quite like this, but he looked on them now for what they were. He bit back his disgust.

  Their bodies were like cracked stone, water running through the fissures in their flesh as they emerged. They perched themselves upright in the water with tails that were scaled as roughly as their bodies. These nymphs were unlike the beautiful ones in his chamber. These were the horrid ones that he’d been told about. They were the ones who crashed ships, devoured sailors, and kept slaves. The one in the middle had a snide air about her with a great head adorned with coral. The ones on each side of her were wielding large spears, but were lesser—he could tell.

  Ellister had his own guards for protection, or so he had thought. Before they could get their bearings, the mer-creatures propelled sharp barbs from their wrists, stabbing each guard—one in the heart; one in the eye—leaving Ellister to stand alone. The guests on the ship scrambled back as if they might escape, and there was a clamor on land as the gathered crowd witnessed this happening. More armed men approached behind Ellister, but he waved them back, even as the blood of his guards pooled around his boots.

  “You wear a crown,” said the nymph in the coral headdress, with a perfectly level human tone. “You must be the king.”

  “As do you,” Ellister returned, trying to be steady while he was boiling inside. He was not sure what would happen—if those same nymphs that had killed his solders would kill him just the same. His reign would be insignificant. A matter of minutes.

  “Human King, I am the Mistress, Queen of the Sea. Hear me! Know this face, for it will be the face of your doom.”

  Her yellow eyes were focused on him, and Ellister stood tall to hear her message. He could not show weakness now.

  “I have come a long way to meet with you face-to-face. To speak with you like this. I have a gift for you. I found it in my waters and wanted you to have it.”

  She lifted her arm and flung something toward the deck. The guards readied themselves as the weighty heap fell at Ellister’s feet, and he took a step back so that it would not hit his foot. A mass of flesh thumped against the boards, and when it rolled free of its wrapping and rested face up onto the planks, Ellister found himself looking into the face of his dead father. The former king—whose body they had sent out to sea days ago—had been found and defiled. His head had been ripped from his shoulders and returned to them here, slack-jawed and glass-eyed.

  Ellister curled his lip in disgust. This was her gift? He was not amused.

  “I have come to tell you this,” the Mistress announced, looking pleased for the blow she’d delivered upon him. “You humans have lost respect for the sea and her power. No more. We are set to take it back for ourselves. In three days, I will bring forth a creature unlike you have ever seen. It will decimate this kingdom and return it to the sea, as it all once belonged. Three days, human king. Leave this place or be destroyed.”

  The Mistress and her guards leapt into the water spout as it collapsed, leaving Ellister before he could make a response. Perhaps those around him might like to deny what they had seen, but the evidence was greater than any of them could refute. There were shadows in the water as several dozen previously unseen nymphs fled into the greater mass of sea, beyond nets that could not quite catch them.

  The people had forgotten the joyous occasion they had gathered for, now turned to horror. They did not rejoice over their new king, and they had forgotten about his bride.

  Ellister was left with this murmuring, a wailing kingdom behind him, and he was full of rage.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ravenous

  1

  The boy had not cried—not once—and the nymph was surprised. She had thought all young humans were screeching, ungrateful things, but not this one. Just a day after she had rescued him from drowning in the great black folds of the ocean, he was scampering up and down the beach, enjoying a freedom that perhaps he’d never known. She watched him for a while with her silver eyes, simply observing, wondering if she felt hatred to look at him, or if she felt anything at all.

  She had seen the ships circling, and she guessed they were looking for him. He was important. The ship he’d been on last night was meant to be a target, but it had been too far away for her kin to snare it. Bliss had been there with them, however. She had waited, a slave among the warriors, watching, observing whatever she could for a weakness. She was always looking for flaws that she could exploit. She did not have enough yet, but one day—

  “Bliss!” The boy was rushing toward her excitedly. He had chosen Bliss as a name for her. She knew that bliss meant happiness. She made him happy. He almost made her happy too. “I found this. It’s for you.”

  He held out a pretty, ivory shell he had found. It was lined with a glistening pink sheen. She could tell he was fascinated by this treasure, but for a moment, she wondered if she ought to humor him. She decided to give him a smile.

  “Thank jou for de gift,” she said, “but I need to speak wit jou about someting. I saved jour life, and one day, dere will be someting more dat I will need from jou.”

  “What is it?” he asked, his attention caught on her. If nothing else, the boy was polite and well-trained. He was a good listener.

  “Jou are important, aren’t jou?” she asked, and the small boy sighed, lowering his blue eyes.

  “My father is the king,” he said. She had suspected as much. She had thought that the ship had been marked with the king’s crest, and judging by the way he’d been dressed when she’d peered onto the deck, she had guessed his station. She’d sung a special song, just for him, and lured him overboard. He was a little human prince, and she could use him.

  “One day, jou will be king of a nation here on land. When jou are older—in another twenty-five years perhaps—jou will be faced wit a great adversary. I know it will come. Jou must be prepared. Dere are others like me, but dey are not like me. Dey will kill jou and all of jour kind if given de chance. Do not give dem dat chance. I am asking jou to grow and be strong against dis threat. It will be returning de favor to me.”

  “You won’t be with me?” he asked innocently. “I want you to always be with me.”

  Bliss had smiled, sincerely that time. She remembered.

  Now, she looked out through the bars of the guarded cell she’d been put into. She had allowed them to put her in this prison, their most secure place, the bars lit by the electric charge from so many eels. She was not burdened by this. She had expected it. She was simply biding her time.

  She had been in this chamber before, deep in the spire. Many times, in fact. The Mistress had always hated her, but there was a reason she had been kept as a slave instead of executed, even in the beginning. The Mistress had not wanted her death, but her eternal suffering. On occasion, the Mistress would spend days reminding her of that, but being ever so careful not to kill her. There were times when she would keep Bliss here to watch as she tortured others in ways that only her cruel mind could concoct. The Mistress liked to use creatures like jellyfish and octopi to ruin flesh. There were the eels powering these bars, good for a jolt. She invented instruments and tools, like rakes of shark teeth, blades made of bone, nets of hooks. Bliss thought she had tasted most of them, but she always healed, fresh and new. Others were not so lucky.

  Bliss would never forget that. She would never forgive it.

  The tentacled priestesses were moving silently about, preparing their own prayers to bind her magic. They were the closest to sorceresses that the perfects had to offer, but could do nothing directly, still relying on the power of the sea. Perhaps they could do what the Mistress had promised and subdue her own power, but Bliss c
ould not let it go on that long. The Mistress would go away soon, likely had already, taking many of her warriors with her. How foolish of her to think these bars could hold the sea witch.

  Bliss did not have ultimate power in her hands, but she had worked on many things to enhance herself. There was power in her touch, in her breath. Her words were already an influence to human ears, and her powers of illusion far surpassed her kin. Her tongue was as silver as her tail, but that was an entirely different sort of skill.

  She had reserved something just for this. When she had cut into the Mistress’s mouth, she had taken a bit of something else from her, a pattern from her blood, and she would be the architect.

  Bliss closed her eyes, thought of the blood that had seeped into her own skin, and let herself change. When the guard came by again, circling attentively, she was the Mistress inside the cage—and she was furious.

  “You there,” Bliss screeched from the Mistress’s mouth. “Open this door.”

  The guard turned to her, eyes full of surprise.

  “Mistress! How—”

  “She has caught you with an illusion, you idiot. Let me out now and get after her.”

  The guard was shaken, affected by her Mistress’s wrath. She did not question. She moved aside to disable the current coursing through the bars, but when she turned her back, Bliss wrapped her hands around the bars of the cage. She braced herself for the shock that rolled through her, locking her jaw, but soon she had gained control over it. The energy absorbed into her body. By the time the guard had turned, the current was gone, but not because it had been switched off.

  The armored guard moved to the cage, wrestling with the keys to open the way for the Mistress.

  “The witch has escaped!” she cried out to the others, drawing guards and priestesses nearby. “She has traded places with the Mistress instead!”

  “What is this?” another questioned. “How?”

  The door opened, and Bliss swam forward wearing the Mistress’s face—as well as an obscene amount of pleasure. She supposed, for all the Mistress’s faults, she was far cleverer than her dimwitted sisters. She would have seen directly through this farce.

  “She has caught jou wit an illusion,” Bliss said again, and expelled the energy from her hands, creating a shockwave around her that knocked the rest of them back. They dropped their weapons and drifted limply in the water, their bodies floating, motionless.

  Bliss did not know if she had killed them, but she did not care. They were incapacitated enough for what she needed, and that was to get away from here.

  There was no use in freeing any of the slaves, even though she had a direct path to do so. She would only secure herself for the time, and not take this chance for granted.

  Knowing that the glamour would soon fade, Bliss swam away from the underwater fortress, but knew it was not the last time that she would be here. She belonged here, after all. One way or another, she would get her wish.

  Bliss had always been patient.

  2

  The night before, Nathan had possessed at least enough self-awareness to accompany Treasure back to the palace docks with him, and afterward, she had vanished as quickly as she had appeared. She had not spoken a word, of course, but she had not looked him in the eye either. She had not seen the truth in the way it must be, and he hadn’t expected her to. She had gone her way obediently—perhaps for him and perhaps not—and he might never see her again. But he had done what he had to do. He knew it was for the best.

  Now, he was drunk. He had been drunk for hours at the Shipwrecked Sailor, from night until dawn. The morning had slipped past him as he drifted in and out of sleep. He would come out of this depression, he knew that, but for now he was in a fog that could not be lifted, and he wanted only to stay there.

  The coronation is today. It’s happening now. She’ll be presented as his and everyone will know.

  What time was it? Was it night again? Was it over yet? His mouth was dry. He wanted another drink. Absently, he lifted the conch to his ear, listening to the air flowing through it— listening to the ocean.

  “You should take a break.”

  Sophia was calling to him. She had left him alone for the most part since he’d been there at the table, and Gideon had not pressed much either, but he had been at it for a while now. Nathan knew that he should probably heed her, but he wasn’t willing to oblige.

  Stubborn. You don’t have the right.

  “Not ready yet,” he said.

  He hadn’t met with Ellister like he’d been planning. He had pushed Treasure away again in the worst possible circumstance. Nothing he had done lately had been right. His timing was terrible, and today, he hated himself.

  Sophia sat down beside him, leaning in. He could smell her—a swirl of fresh orange blossom. It was pleasant, but the creak of the wooden chair was loud enough to hurt his head.

  “What happened after you ran off yesterday?” she asked. “What has gotten you so upset? Is it Ellister? Did he say something to you?”

  He lifted his bloodshot eyes to her, observing her own as they searched him. He opened his mouth, about to spill everything about the girl he’d loved and lost—

  “Nathaniel Thomas…”

  Nathan perked up at the sound of a voice he recognized—which sent shivers through him, echoing in his mind.

  “Jou’re alert. Good. I know jou have de conch—I saw jou wit it. I know jou hear me. Did jou deliver dat message? De new king needs to be prepared. It’s happening fast. It’s happening now.”

  “Now?” he muttered aloud. “What is?”

  Sophia was still staring at him, now with even more confusion than before. He wanted to explain, but everything was muddled from his brain to his lips.

  As if to save him, heavy footsteps began to pound up the side of his head and to the top of his skull, and a moment later, Gideon had emerged from around the corner and into the space.

  “I need you downstairs now,” he said, not stopping as he rounded past the table.

  “What?” Nathan could not understand his insistence.

  “Now,” Gideon did not waste time rushing through the place, and with one confused look at Sophia’s bewildered expression, Nathan pulled himself up to follow.

  He was unsteady on his feet, but by the time he was on the stairs, he had found his legs. He moved down behind Gideon, still unsure of what the fuss was about. Sophia was creeping down behind him, though perhaps she had not been invited. Below in the cellar where they often made their plans, another figure emerged, candlelight glancing off a cloak.

  To his surprise, Nathan recognized a somewhat blurry Ellister. The crown prince—no the king—here? In normal circumstances, Ellister might have sent Nathan on this errand, but he had not quite made himself available of late.

  Even in his state, it only took one look at Ellister’s face to understand that he was livid.

  “There is no talking this over, Gideon,” Ellister insisted as soon as they emerged. “She appeared to me in front of the whole kingdom and presented me with my father’s head!”

  “I need you to slow down…” Nathan tried. What was he talking about? He couldn’t follow it, but Ellister did not stop.

  “What I need is for this to be sorted out. We can’t afford to simply defend ourselves. We must bring the fight to them, and we have to do it now. I need you to find out how we can stop them, or else how we can hit them hardest to put them in their place.” He looked at Gideon squarely. “You wanted revenge? Now’s the time.”

  Gideon was quiet a moment, looking at Ellister as if the man had just insulted his family, as if something would burst from his lips if he did not hold it back. He took a couple of heavy breaths and then, miraculously, began to speak calmly.

  “If you want the people to be safe, then I think you know what you have to do. Close the port. Order the people off the water and off the coast. Do you agree?”

  “Yes, of course.” Ellister almost seemed to calm down.

&n
bsp; “And cancel the wedding celebrations.”

  “The wedding will not be cancelled,” Ellister shouted, back at high tension again. “As if those present did not see what happened before them today. Word will spread. The people can’t take much more of this. They need to see these events carry on as planned, if nothing else. Today almost undid everything that I’ve been working for. The message I was trying to send as king? Ruined. This has to stop.”

  “It might be time to engage them,” Gideon agreed thoughtfully. “But I think you know as well as I do that you need to cancel the wedding.”

  “I need… I’m not ready.” Ellister sighed. He did not seem like himself—not as Nathan had known him. Perhaps this had been the blow to finally ruffle the cool-headed royal. He shook his head a moment, then looked directly at Nathan.

  “If it’s time, I need a decision. We’ll reconvene after you’ve thought it over. Study. Let me know what you decide.”

  Those were his words in parting, and Ellister had retreated as quickly as he’d come. Nathan had not gotten a word in edgewise, and he simply stood there, stricken.

  “That man will have the nymphs picking our bones if he keeps talking like that,” Gideon murmured.

  “But is he wrong?” Sophia asked, emerging from the shadows. Nathan had almost forgotten that she was there. “If they plan to attack us, how can we not attempt to go after them first?”

  “It’s impossible,” Gideon said simply. “It’s not like marching on an enemy nation. We can’t very well go into the sea. We’ve been planning this for years, but we have to let them come to us. We can’t rush in now.”

  “How can you say that after everything?” Sophia demanded, but Gideon was not swayed. Nathan on the other hand, was still completely lost.