Lords of the Abyss III:
CAPTIVE OF THE DEEP
By
Michelle M. Pillow
Captive of the Deep © copyright December 2010, Michelle M. Pillow
Cover art © Copyright 2010, Natalie Winters
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Published by The Raven Books
All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Michelle M. Pillow.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.
Published by Raven Books
www.ravenhappyhour.com ~ www.theravenbooks.com
Raven Books and all affiliate sites and projects are © Copyrighted 2004-2010
Lords of the Abyss III:
CAPTIVE OF THE DEEP
By
Michelle M. Pillow
Dedication
Thank you everyone who waited patiently (and not so patiently *wink*) for the final installment in the Lords of the Abyss trilogy, and for following me into this underwater world of mermen and their rescued ladies.
Note from the Author
Even though this title can stand on its own, the author recommends that the previous books be read before this one, in order to fully appreciate the Lords of the Abyss trilogy. For more information, please visit the author’s website www.michellepillow.com or www.theravenbooks.com
The Lords of the Abyss trilogy includes the books The Mighty Hunter, Commanding the Tides, and Captive of the Deep.
Chapter One
Lyra hated the ocean. She hated the smell of fish, the taste of salt on her tongue, the briny smell in the air when the waves crashed against the wooden ship. She hated the creaking of the hull and the endless rocking, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Holding her hand over her mouth, she tried not to gag. It was a complete exercise in uselessness. Her stomach hit the railing as she puked over the side.
The fast clip of the wooden ship against the waves sent high splashes of water over the side. Lyra was drenched, but she didn’t dare move as she held tight to the rail. Her heart pounded and for a moment it was only her, the rail and the long stretch of moonlit ocean, and the endless rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and...
“Just kill me now,” she moaned to no one in particular, as she twisted the cap on her mouthwash. The taste of mint had become as familiar as the smell of salt, and just as hated. The few people milling around the deck were used to seeing her bent over in misery. She’d been that way for the last two months as they sailed from Spain to the Americas. The only reason she was on this ship was her brothers and father needed her help. A very rich man paid big money for her family’s sailing expertise. Her father, Captain Bill Harne, was the best of the best. It was said he could sail through a hurricane and come out smiling. Her oldest brother, Will, had been born for the ocean and probably spent more of his life on sea than land. The others—Jackson, Kristopher, Rocky and Winston—had varying levels of experience, but all of them were strong swimmers and dedicated to lives on the sea. Then there was Lyra, the baby of the family, spoiled by her mother and kept on land while her brothers braved the corners of the Earth. Her mom had been desperate to have something other than a sailor in the family. She ended up with Lyra, who wasn’t really much of anything.
“Mom would have laughed to see you now,” Jackson teased. “She would’ve said it served you right for agreeing to this trip.”
“The seasickness or this hideous dress?” She glanced down at what could only be described as bar wench gone to sea. At least her brothers got to look like respectable men from the 1500s. It was all part of the deal with the rich boss. He wanted the authentic Spanish Armanda experience. Apparently, the guy’s great-great-great-something-or-other was an important part of Spain’s history. The truth was, whenever the man spoke about it, Lyra’s mind fuzzed out and she stopped paying attention.
“Now that you mention it, that gown does look a little less bulky.” Jackson glanced at the skirt.
“I threw the petticoats overboard.” Lyra grinned through her physical discomfort. “You try wearing a corset and fifty pounds worth of material on a rocking death trap. I still say that I should be able to dress like a lad. I’d give anything for a linen shirt and breeches at this point.”
“Not up to me,” Jackson said, slapping the pads on his arms. He wore an old fashioned linen ruff around his neck, an embroidered, padded epaulette, short stockings and puffed shorts much like what was worn on the old Armada Galleons. “This isn’t how I would have spent my fortune.” He eyed her with mock curiosity. “How is it you swam in from the same gene pool as the rest of us?”
“I’m pretty sure the family gene pool was dried up and I just kind of crawled in.” She gave a wry laugh.
“You know, you could have said no to the trip.”
“You all begged me to come. I’m the only one out of you sorry lot that can speak Spanish.” She gave him a sheepish look, not feeling better, but definitely glad to have an empty stomach.
“I suppose it’s better for you here than hanging by yourself at home. Mom wouldn’t have wanted you to become a shut-in either.”
“I’m not a shut-in. My job is online. I stay home and work.” It has been three years since her mother’s death and Lyra still missed her. Not wanting to talk about it, she said, “Tell me a story. Distract me.”
“Did I ever tell you about the time we docked in Antwerp?” Jackson grinned. His devilish looks had been the ruination of many a young hearts, but his heart had never been stolen. Hair as black as midnight and eyes that twinkled like stars—that was Jackson. And Kris. And Will. And Rocky. And Winston. Heck, even their father. Lyra took after her mom with dark blonde hair down to her waist and wide green eyes. Right now her hair was bound back at her nape to keep it out of her face.
“Yes,” Lyra answered, “you did.”
“East London Harbor in South Africa?”
“Yes.”
“Robben Island on the Western Cape?”
“Yes.”
“Hong Kong? Rotterdam? Pohang?”
“Yes, yes, and oh please not that one again yes.” Lyra laughed, covering her ears, as her brother successfully distracted her from her seasickness. “Don’t you have stories that aren’t all about you and some lady you met at port?”
“Sure, but those aren’t the good ones.” Jackson motioned that she should follow him. “You empty? We should go. Captain needs you to translate.”
“Man, I hope I don’t have anything left,” she muttered grabbing her stomach. “How long until this is over?”
“Less than a month,” Jackson answered. “And about two hours less than the last time you ask—”
He never finished the sentence. The boat pitched to the side with a loud crack. Lyra screamed as her arms flailed in the air. She could see Jackson’s expression fill with panic and concern as he reached for her. His hand missed her arm and she flew into the railing with a bruising thud. Her ribs throbbed in agony. Automatically, she grabbed at the first thing she could find, a long wooden post beneath the rail, and held on for dear life as the boat pitched in the other direction. Her legs tangled in the skirts as she slid over the deck.
The next seconds were the most horrific in her life. Men emerged from below deck only to be swept away as the ship was jarred again and again. She couldn’t help them even though she tried to stop a few as they slipped past her legs, but could barely hold on herself. Jackson was swept away trying to reach her, captured by a rush of water over the deck. Lyra screamed again and again,
begging and pleading, demanding that whatever it was stopped. But, in the end, it was no use.
“Monsters,” a man yelled in broken English. “They come from below!”
* * * *
Rigel the Warrior ignored the tension in his gut as he swam slowly beneath the ocean’s surface. His instinct told him they were close to their prey, and with each hunt’s end there came a bittersweet result—they caught the scylla they sought. Yes, they needed to hunt the creatures. They couldn’t let them roam free for they would terrorize the humans from the surface world, killing them by wrecking their vessels. But, to catch them meant the scylla would die despite the Merr’s efforts to keep them alive.
Seeing the telltale flash of silvery black fins in the water beside him, Rigel narrowed his eyes and listened to the water. That was not the creature he hunted. It was one of his brothers.
‘Here,’ he said, directing his thoughts using their mind link. All the Merr could communicate by telepathy in the water.
There were twelve Merr hunters in total, split up into four teams of three. He was part of a team known as the Warriors. The other two, Demon and Brutus, were his twin brothers. Rigel, though he was technically the youngest, was the leader—not that age really mattered after a near eternity of living. It wasn’t like their mortal days when age actually influenced rank or position. After hundreds of years they were pretty much the same and only clung to the memory of such things out of habit.
Aside from his team there were the Hunters—Iason, Caderyn and Solon. They were also in the water, nearby if Rigel’s tingling senses were to be believed. The Knights led by Cain and the Soldiers led by Hrafn were taking a much needed break from hunting while the other two teams took up their duties.
As leader, he carried a vial around his neck filled with a liquid that would paralyze the scylla so they may catch it. The liquid was the only way to stop the creature. Unfortunately, if spilled, it could paralyze the Merr as well. Carrying it was a job that took much concentration and he would have final say when it came to capturing the scylla because it was he who needed to get into position.
Swishing his tail, Rigel navigated the dark waters to climb higher. His gills fluttered against his neck, filtering the water so he could breathe. Thin threads of moonlight danced above him, shining down into the oblivion below. He missed the moon, the stars, the sun and human land. Unfortunately, he couldn’t break the surface to see the moon and had to content himself to see it bend and stretch with the current. One of the only things that could kill the Merr was surface air. It would burn the skin, but if breathed it would destroy.
Brutus and Demon were two of the largest of the Merr race and identical in every aspect, from their long black hair to their matching dark eyes. Even their fins were the same silvery black color. It made them nearly invisible in the deep waters, even to their own kind sometimes. Rigel was a lighter version of the twins. His hair was dark, but not black, and his eyes were grey. When the sunlight shone through the waves his silver fins looked like ship metal floating in the water. It came in handy when having to swim undetected along the underside of a metal human boat. For this reason, they often volunteered for the more dangerous hunts.
Brutus approached, appearing out of the darkness into the dancing blue light. He motioned to the distance. ‘I heard wood crack. The scylla attacks.’
Within seconds the sound of drowning humans washed over them. Giant splashes accompanied the distorted screams. Rigel darted through the water, hoping this time they could make it in time to stop the creature and save some lives. Unfortunately for the humans, once the scylla started an attack it usually ended it within seconds. It didn’t stop Rigel and his brothers from trying though. No matter how often he heard such despair, it never became easier. He wished he could save them, but all any of them could do was push the humans toward the water’s surface and wish them luck. When he saw the first piece of debris sinking into the depths, he knew it was too late for many of the mortals. There was no land for miles—too far for humans to swim. Perhaps they could float on broken parts of the ship, if luck was with them.
Though, honestly, perhaps pushing them to the surface and trying to save them was crueler than letting them drown. They were in the middle of the ocean, no sign of rescue vibrating in the water. Chances were their bodies would weaken and they would die a long, horrible death. If they managed to float on a raft, the hot sun and lack of drinking water would kill them. But, what else could he do? Wasn’t a small chance better than none?
Rigel darted for a human, pushing him up toward the surface. From the corner of his vision he saw Demon was doing the same. Brutus swam on, searching for their prey.
‘Rigel? Demon?’ Solon’s voice echoed in his head and he glanced around as he moved toward the next man. The hunter joined them, gliding his arms to hover in the water. The green-gold of his tail whipped back and forth. Like all Merr, Solon’s tail and fins matched the color of his hazel eyes.
‘Solon, what are you doing here? Have you come to help us?’ Rigel asked.
‘No, the Hunters seek another creature. It has been evading us.’ The vial around Solon’s neck drifted easily with his movements.
‘We have the same problem, but it is close. I think we will have luck this night.’
‘You have been away from home a long time. You cannot stay out in the water much longer.’ All knew they could only stay away from Ataran soil for two weeks before going mad. Once madness set in, they would never find their way back alone. Even going past a week was pushing it.
‘Aye, but we cannot leave it. This is an old one. Very powerful. If we go home we might not catch it again. Who knows how many wrecks it has caused.’
‘Then there are two old ones in the water this night,’ Solon said. They both knew the danger they faced. The scylla were dangerous creatures. They were spirits of the water, mindless, reckless, forever searching. Two scylla together would be strong enough to push any one of them out of the water. ‘I will get Caderyn and Iason. We will work together.’
Rigel nodded in agreement. Not seeing anyone else he could save, he began sensing the water for one of the scylla. Brutus emerged to push a drowning human toward the surface. The mortal man was still alive and grabbed a floating piece of the ship’s debris. Brutus swam quickly under his legs, making a current that would drift the survivor away from the shipwreck.
‘The Hunters come to help us,’ Rigel said.
Moments later he heard Caderyn call out to him. His dark brown hair drifted around his head, floating briefly before his stark purple eyes. The silver purple of his tail whipped once, pushing him up higher. Iason’s green was soon flashing behind him, joined once more by Solon.
‘You’ve been away from Ataran longer,’ Iason said to them. ‘We will help you catch yours and then go for ours. You need to get home before you lose your way.’
‘He’s a big one,’ Brutus warned.
‘Slipped by us twice already,’ Demon added. ‘Tore up this ship, though I see now that he had help. We were wondering why it went down so fast for as big as it was.’
A cold rush of current, colder than usual, crept over them. They turned to the man Brutus had helped to save. The human’s legs kicked violently, and they saw the shadowed form of a scylla gliding beneath him.
‘By All the Gods!’ Solon swore. ‘It is huge.’
Brutus gave a small nod, as if affirming he’d been telling the truth. All six Merr swarmed into action. Rigel tore the vial from his neck, ready to blow. The creature began to drift, nothing more than a dark spot in the water. It was a near shapeless, faceless shadowing. It made a dash past Brutus and Demon. The two brothers cut it off. Iason and Solon crowded its sides as Caderyn swam below. Rigel blew into the vial, breaking the bottom seal and coating their prey. The creature bucked, knocking the human up, tossing him high above the surface. The man screamed, but they ignored him. There was nothing they could do beyond what they were doing.
Both Brutus and Demon latched
onto the scylla, fighting it as they dragged it deep into the ocean. The creature soon became subdued and the hunters were able to drag it more easily. Rigel let his brothers carry the weight, as he waved his thanks to Iason. He had no doubt they would have captured it, but with six it had been easier. For a moment, he thought about offering to help the other team. But, already he felt the dizzying pull of the water. He needed to get home before he lost his way. Hearing a splash as the human hit the water several feet from where he’d been launched, Rigel said, ‘Go. Find the second. I’ll push this mortal up and will follow my team.’
‘That way,’ Iason said to his team as he swam away into the darkness.
‘What is that noise?’ Solon’s voice grew faint inside Rigel’s head as he grasped the drowning man’s waist and pushed him up from the depths. The gentle feel of vibrations in the water alerted them to another boat. Rigel smiled as he let go of the man. Perhaps there was hope for the survivors this night.
Chapter Two
Lyra awoke in a sweat. Her heart pounded until she thought it might explode from her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was or what had happened, as she looked around at her surroundings in confusion. But, as the endless nightmares became reality, and understanding dawned, the fear turned to pain. Never in her life has she felt so much heartache. The stress of it built within her until she could barely breathe, or think. She wanted to run, but, more than that, she wanted to die.
“Just kill me now.”
That is what she’d said as she stood on the deck, looking across the distant ocean. But, whatever force had been listening that night killed everyone she cared about instead—at least physically. For, that same force had killed her in another, much crueler way. It killed her heart and soul.
Captive of the Deep Page 1