by Ros Baxter
‘Who are they?’ Susan’s eyes were wide, but her chin was set and there was a rigid grace to the set of her body that Lecanora recognized from Lunia, and also something else. Something regal, she realized, that reminded her of her own foster-mother. The way she was in a crisis.
‘We told you about the prison,’ Lecanora said. ‘It is them, again.’
Susan nodded. ‘We need to get help,’ she said. ‘Your Doug. And my men. You said they are not far from here.’
‘There is no time,’ Lunia said, moving quickly to the front of the cave. ‘Come, see.’
Lecanora and Susan followed Lunia. When they were almost at the front of the cave, Lunia pulled them up short with a hand. The front part of the cave was jagged. Hanging rocks pushed down from its roof, and others grew up from the sandy floor. Before the mouth of the cave, there were several places where the rocks thinned out, and you could see through them to the beach and the ocean beyond. The waves lapped into the cave itself, and Lecanora registered that it must fill with water at certain times of the tidal cycle.
Together, the three women clambered up onto a large rock, above which was a small opening to look out onto the beach. Lecanora directed her gaze and her mouth fell open. Coming up the beach towards the cave, in a slow but deliberate march, were hundreds of young men. They were gloriously beautiful, right at the time their bodies turned from adolescents to mature men. And they were naked. Their feet barely made a sound on the wet sand, but as one, their approach spoke a quiet thunder.
Lecanora’s stomach clenched.
‘Good God,’ Susan Murray said, her breathing picking up. ‘Are these your people?’ She climbed down and tuned to Lecanora and Lunia. ‘We cannot possibly evade them,’ she said. ‘They are too many. And you say they are very dangerous?’
Lecanora nodded. ‘Very.’ A sharp pain picked at the front of her head as she tried to puzzle a way out of this, but she could not find the answer. Her brain whirred and chugged, but the memory of that night, the guns, the death, all the blood, crammed in on her. Her head spun and she feared for a small second that she might faint.
Susan and Lunia reached for her as one. Lunia wrapped an arm around her and pulled her towards her, but Susan spoke firmly. ‘Princess.’ Hearing the title from this woman’s lips concentrated Lecanora’s mind. ‘Look at me,’ Susan said. Lecanora lifted her eyes and met the bright blue ones of the woman who was Saskia. ‘These are your people. You need to talk to them.’
Lecanora remembered that night, peeking into their brains, seeing and hearing the lust for pain and death there. ‘It is no good,’ she said.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Susan said. ‘You must try. There are no other options.’
Lecanora looked at Lunia, who nodded, swallowing several times as she did. ‘It is worth a try.’
Lecanora closed her eyes and tried to focus on her mother. Her other mother. The woman who had raised her to be Queen. She remembered her mother, working with her in The Eye, teaching her about speaking to a crowd, the subtlety and nuance of it. And she could hear, almost as though it were yesterday, her mother’s words.
There is great power in you, Lecanora, in the content of your heart. And in how you speak If your words are true, and you utter them with concentrated intent, all will hear. You are more powerful than you know.
Lecanora opened her eyes and tried to believe it. She tried not to think about what she had seen with the shells: her mother, sick and broken.
And then Lunia was in her mind. Don’t try to reject that thought, my darling daughter, she said. Let it focus you. Your mother is dying. Soon it will be you. You are Queen. Take that with you as you speak to them.
Lecanora nodded at the two women before her. She turned on her heel on the soft sand, and faced the mouth of the cave.
Lunia cried out. ‘Where are you going?’
Lecanora pointed to the beach. ‘Out there, to them,’ she said.
‘No,’ Lunia said, grasping her firmly by the arm. ‘Do it from here. Use your mind. You can reach from here. They are close enough.’
‘No,’ Lecanora said. Susan nodded at her, her tight mouth speaking silent agreement. ‘They need to see me.’ She could hear in her own voice that it was hard and loud. It bounced off the jagged rocks and came back at her. Lunia nodded and bowed her head, but Lecanora heard the message her mother planted deep in her brain.
Not too close.
Lecanora padded gently out of the cave, and as her feet hit the outside beach, and as the weak sun touched her shoulders, she almost lost heart. They were coming towards her, and seemed to barely see her. Line after line of young men. Her young men.
Like someone had sounded a whistle, they stopped.
Men of Aegira, she said into their brains. As they waited, she sought out their minds. It was as it had been at the prison. They were straining, listening, waiting for something. The only brain pattern was of a desire for pain, and death. They were hunters, sent to take her and…no. Susan. It was Susan they wanted more. For some reason, they knew what she meant. But to Aegira? Or to The Land? Lecanora could not disentangle it.
As she listened in, she understood some more. They had no independent thoughts. Each was tied invisibly to the one next to him, and to all of the others, like fish in the tightest of schools, or birds flying in formation. They were barely separate beings.
But Lecanora understood community.
My people, she said again. My men. I am your Princess and very soon, I will be your Queen. My mother, Imd, is at the end.
She sought the right words. I know you. I know you like my own alorha. You are perfect and complete. Whatever has taken you, whatever has twisted you, this is not what you are. This is not who you are. You are not soldiers. You are Aegirans.
As she watched them, she felt them strain to her. She tuned in again to their minds and began to see, though the briny black-green fog of lust for violence, some turquoise wisps break through. Her words were wrapping around the messaging that was programmed into their brains, and speaking to them directly. Turquoise, the color of connection. The color of compassion. The color of her home.
You can break free of this.
This part was hard. Freedom was not a notion that had great currency in Aegira. There was nothing of which to be free. Community, and connections were the important things, so what she was asking them to do went against their very nature. As she focused harder on their brains she heard the sound, finally, the one they were straining for. For her, it was almost a low buzz, less sound than vibration, and she realized they must be very attuned to be able to not only register it, but to follow it so slavishly, and whatever direction it was giving them.
Larry was right, she realized; it was like a drug. A drug they had been somehow hooked on, and then that had been fine-tuned so carefully that it could control them perfectly, even at the lowest of frequencies. A frequency no-one else could hear. So they could be deployed anywhere, in any way. The perfect army.
The thought almost made her lose her place. Not freedom; she could not go with freedom. She needed to try something else.
Come to me, she said. Come to me, men of Aegira. Join with me; embrace me. I am yours. I am your Princess, and I will be your Queen. I know you will not hurt me.
She stood in front of them, and then slowly, slowly, took off her clothes and stood naked before them.
As she did, she felt the change in their brains. She felt them advance towards her differently, watched the turquoise beginning to beat back the green-black of hate and violence in their heads. Still, it took all her willpower not to turn and run as they moved towards her.
Then, she felt the counter-push. She felt the low buzz change tack, ramp up, slice back into their brains. They paused, and she scrambled for the right response.
Listen to me, Aegirans, she said. Focus on my voice.
What could she do? What else could she do?
And then the image came to her, of Arty, singing that cheesy old song on the floor
of the bathroom. She smiled to herself, and knew it was the answer. She knew in her heart how impossible it was to not think about something. Instead, you must replace the thought, and think about something else. This was the same. They needed another sound on which to focus. A better sound. One that spoke to their hearts.
She opened her mouth, and started on the note, the first, perfect note of the perfect song. The Song of Two. The Aegiran wedding song. And, right then, she felt it. She was wedded to these men, these poor, stolen men. They were her people. She could bring them back to her. They hesitated as they stood there, their brains at war with themselves.
And then, from behind her, she heard something else.
Two more, perfect voices, joining her. Lunia’s she knew well, and she knew that voice knew this song well also. But the other. The other was new to her, and it took a second for her to realize it was Susan’s. So different. Lower than she had ever heard an Aegiran voice, even Rania’s. But how could she possibly know the song?
Lecanora had no time to think about it.
She flicked a quick glance behind her, and saw her mother and the next President of the United States discarding their clothes behind her.
The sight filled her with love, and with power. It rose, full and turquoise in her brain. They would come to her now; she knew it.
She sang right into their heads. Right into their hearts. And she felt them begin to reject that other sound, even as it slammed into their minds, building and clawing with the force of a tornado at sea. So close. They stood still before her, fighting the things that were controlling them.
Suddenly, a loud crack sliced the air. Lecanora flashed her eyes in the direction of the noise and saw Doug, standing like an avenging angel at the top of the car park, just where the path led to the beach. He held his gun aloft as he screamed. ‘Come and get me, guys!’
Lecanora felt hundreds of brains spin in confusion. They turned to Doug, then strained back again for their internal commands.
There was a tiny, suspended moment where it could have gone either way. Then they advanced on the women anew, their minds honed and focused, no thread of turquoise to be found.
Lunia reached for Lecanora. ‘Run,’ she said.
Lecanora stood her ground, her mind clearer than it had ever been. ‘It won’t matter,’ she said. ‘They will catch us. There are too many.’ She looked at Susan. ‘Can you swim?’
‘What?’ Susan’s eyes were wet and wide. ‘Ah, yes,’ she said. ‘Of course, of course I can swim.’
‘No,’ Lunia said, nodding at Lecanora slowly. ‘You don’t understand. Can you swim really well?’
This time Susan echoed the slow nod, understanding dawning in her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can. My father saw to it.’
Lunia held out her hands to the women. The soldiers were two hundred yards from them now. ‘Come.’
* * *
Susan was not wrong. She was a good swimmer. But still, they had to get far enough out to make this work, and quickly, so Lunia and Lecanora had dragged her along as they had hummed their strokes faster and longer, using that distant cousin of song travelling. Lecanora had almost lost heart as she had seen the soldiers on the beach milling in confusion as they hit the waves, and then turn towards the place where Doug was standing, and begin to run towards him. Her mother had tugged at her.
‘He knows what he is doing,’ she said. ‘Swim.’
And now they were here, out far enough. Together, Lunia and Lecanora had calculated where it could be done. If it had been the two of them, they could have done it from the shallows. But this would be Susan’s first time. She needed full submersion.
It would be hard enough.
‘This will be very frightening for you,’ Lunia said, treading water and looking at Susan carefully. ‘But they are there. Waiting for us,’ she said. ‘We have no choice.’
Susan nodded. ‘I understand.’ She was breathing hard, and Lecanora could see the fear in her brain. She smiled as she realized that Susan truly was a mermaid, because she was more frightened of the soldiers on the beach than the journey ahead of her.
Lunia opened her mouth and began to sing the note. ‘Join me, daughter,’ she said.
Lecanora shook her head. ‘I am going back.’
No. Lunia’s brain flashed violet at her.
Lecanora turned and paddled away. She knew she could not face her mother down, almost as clearly as she knew that she could never leave Doug, and the others, without being sure they were safe.
I gave an undertaking, she said as she swam, that I would keep Saskia’s people safe. We took them; we must protect them. I will make sure they are safe, and then I will come.
And Doug, her mother said. And Lecanora was sure there was a trace of bitterness in her thoughts.
Yes, she said. And Doug, who has risked everything for us. I will not take unnecessary risks, but you must get Susan to Aegira.
Lunia pressed love and safety into Lecanora’s brain as she closed Susan’s eyes and placed her hands on her shoulders, pushing down as they slid under the water, wrapped in the magical note.
* * *
She came towards him out of the waves, more and less a woman than he had ever seen. Wild white water broke against her legs, and the sky was streaked with bruises.
It reminded him of a painting of a god: Wrath.
Silver blonde hair lay in wet twists across her shoulders, like rope to tie a man’s legs with, and leave him screaming and gasping for air as he slid beneath the waves.
He shivered. Serious grey eyes weighed him up, and he wondered what she could see with them. Old shames and secrets cover their nudity with clumsy hands.
‘They are safe, Princess,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘Then soon I must go.’
She is covered in sand. It glinted, crunchy on her brown skin; shards of crystal. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to lick it off her or throw himself at her feet in worship.
She crooked a finger at him, heading for the cave, and he knew which it is.
* * *
She was lying in the shallows of the cave pool, floating. He felt awkward as he settled himself down in the wet sand beside the long, liquid length of her. Her arms fanned slowly up and down in the shallow water. A tiny movement, keeping her atop the water. She was naked, but she studied his face, unaware. Unashamed.
He grabbed one of the slowly moving hands and brought it up to his chest, pulling her into a sitting position with it. Then he dragged her hand closer still, slowly, to cover the brown oval of one nipple, and the long, ragged scar that sliced through it. He watched her eyes widen as she felt the quickening of his heart.
He wanted her, but there was no reason in this. He was afraid to touch her, lest he break her with the tidal wave of his wanting. He thought about Rania’s words: bloodtide. And he thought about all he would smash and burn and kill to protect this woman.
But who would protect her from him?
Because he wanted her in a way that made him understand. Understand Rania and Carragheen. Understand the poets, and the musicians, and all the mewling lost lovers he’d ever scoffed at as he shoved another coin in another jukebox in another battlefield mess hall.
But this was not mild and mewling. This was not temperate. There were no harps, there was no swoon.
There was only this.
He bent his head and captured her nipple in his mouth, feeling reckless power rise full and ugly within him as a soft keening fell from her. He held his breath, waiting for her to stop, to leap from his touch as the scales fell from her eyes and she saw what he was: base and clumsy and human.
And then she moved, pushing him down onto his back with the strength of an Olympian. She swept a leg across his chest and drove him into the center of her in one sweet movement.
He hung onto his sanity and his self-control as she repeated the movement, forcing him deeper inside her as her hair fell forward and she says, in that Danish princess voice:
‘I want t
o feel you. Everywhere.’
* * *
Nothing has ever felt like this. She drives into him, again and again. Who could ever have imagined? No wonder. No wonder they all made such a fuss of this, The Land people.
Doug’s hardness fills her up, stretching the most tender places inside of her, in the sweetest way. But she can feel him holding back.
‘Why are you waiting?’
He laughs, that throaty sound that unhinges her just a little. It makes her feel like a woman; a woman who can drive a man mad. And she wants to make him crazy, too. As crazy with wanting as she feels right now.
‘I’m not,’ he lies smoothly.
She leaps off him, crouching beside him on the sand. ‘Yes, you are,’ she says. ‘And now you’re waiting and lying. Why?’
He scratches his head and sighs. ‘I’m not, I…’ He trails off then refocuses on her, lifting one long strand of blonde hair and twirling it on his fingertips. ‘Okay, so I am.’ He puffs air out his mouth. ‘I just didn’t know, I had no idea this was your first time.’
‘You can tell?’ She is genuinely surprised.
‘Yes,’ he says gently, smiling right into her. ‘I can tell. And I don’t want to hurt you.’
She leans forward and pinches one of his perfect nipples. ‘What if I want to hurt you?’ She squeezes harder, remembering the feeling of him inside her, the stretch and snap. ‘What if I want the pain to wake you up? Make you feel me?’
‘That’s okay.’ Doug shrugs. ‘But I still wouldn’t want to hurt you.’ His mouth is a firm line.
‘What if you couldn’t control yourself?’ She stands and turns, showing him the full length of her.
‘I can always control myself,’ he growls, but he kneels quickly and yanks on one of her hands. ‘But I get it, Princess,’ he says. ‘You want me off the leash.’