by Dan Avera
She looked away and said nothing, and Will realized that he had most likely just insulted her. But it's for the best, he thought inwardly. If that's what it takes to make her stay alive, then...I can have that on my conscience.
To her, he said, I'm not joking, Clare. If you won't leave, I'll have the Titans take you away by force.
She was silent for awhile as they neared the great coral gate. Another of the strange serpentine creatures swam lazily past them, eyeing Will with almost scholarly curiosity as it went. When they finally passed under the archway, Clare said, If you die, and I do nothing to help you, I will have to live with that shame for the rest of my life. Her voice in his head was tinny, meek, as though he had physically struck her and now she was cowering before him. He felt his stomach twist at the thought.
If you live, he said as gently as he could, you'll be doing more than if you die trying to protect me. That's my job—to protect life. It's time I actually started doing that. He grinned at her. But this is all hypothetical, of course. We've gotten out of some ludicrously dangerous situations before; we'll think of something. She did not return his smile, though, and after a moment his own died on his lips. He said no more.
Soon they were within the coral castle's inner sanctum. It looked much the same inside its walls as it did outside, though there seemed to be an even greater number of creatures within. Everywhere Will looked some strange beast swam or slithered or crawled, and each of them paused to watch Borbos as he passed. The nautilus sentinels hovered in a delta in front of them, acting as an honor guard, and as he watched them Will suddenly realized that the merfolk had disappeared; somehow, they had managed to fade back into the sea without him noticing. He looked around but could see no sign of them. He imagined they had gone off to keep watch or something of the sort.
Borbos, he asked suddenly, indicating the nautiluses, are they guards?
Aye, the personal guardians of the Sea Spirit himself.
So, erm...they look like they would be rather...awkward in a fight.
Will felt a small burst of amusement from Borbos. You would think so, said the Titan. But they've a few tricks up their sleeves. Ah, here we are.
They had come to a pair of massive doors. They were made entirely of solid slabs of coral, and their surfaces were rough and spiny, gnarled like the bark of some great white tree. They swung silently inward as they approached, and Will was momentarily blinded by a glaring yellow light that emanated from within.
God of the Five Seas, a strange voice said in his head. It sounded soft, almost like a young man, but with an odd undertone of churning and bubbling. Father. You have returned. I was beginning to worry that you would not.
There be no way in the Void I'd ever let you rot, lad, Borbos answered reproachfully. I thought you knew that.
As the light began to fade and Will blinked his vision back into clarity, a strange shape solidified in the center of the room. He had seen clams once before—tiny, shelled things that lived in the silt of the Great Lake in the Southlands—and this thing seemed to be some sort of seafaring cousin, though it was larger. Much larger. It was so vast, in fact, that unhinged and wide open as it was, the thing sitting in its center was dwarfed by its immensity.
Will cocked an eyebrow as the figure itself came into focus; it had no distinct shape, and yet at the same time it did. It seemed to be a man, but the longer Will looked at it the more he became convinced that its shape was definitely not man-like. Regardless, its body was made entirely of kelp and bits of coral, and tiny, brightly-colored fish constantly swam around and through it, hiding occasionally within the thing's green folds.
It dissipated suddenly, unraveling as fast as Will could blink, and then the kelp soared through the water toward them, where it reformed a short distance away. Two shining yellow eyes flashed momentarily from where its face should have been.
I did not think you would abandon us, the strange voice said. I was simply worried that you would be unable to slip past the Behemoth.
Well, said Borbos, we did, but I think perhaps that may have been its plan all along. No doubt the great beast be on its way to gobble us up as we speak.
As if to punctuate his words, a tremendous groan suddenly shook the palace, stirring up trails of bubbles and little motes of detritus. The noise was similar to the Leviathan's only...angry. Will could not put his finger on it, but something in the groan sounded murderously enraged. He looked over at Clare, who stared back at him with wide eyes.
Now would be a good time to leave, he said, forcing his thoughts to sound calm. Something big and mean and hungry this way comes.
Agreed, Borbos replied, and he clapped his hands. Much as before, a shockwave rippled out in a ring around him. This time, though, a low, vibrating hum accompanied it. It sounded almost like someone had blown an incredibly deep horn—and that horn was right next to Will's ear. He winced and shook his head to clear it.
The muffled tones receded into the distance, echoing for an unnaturally long time before finally dissipating into silence, and on the noise's heels came the merfolk, their strange bodies materializing out of the sky-blue haze like phantoms in a field of mist. Will realized then that the entire palace was lacking a roof; he wondered momentarily why they had bothered to go through the front gate at all, but put it out of his mind.
The merfolk swam down to Borbos and the Sea Spirit, enveloping them in a single massive protective sphere, and then rose as one along with the band of gods and warriors. The nautilus guardians remained on the inside of the living shield, close to Borbos and the Sea Spirit, and Will wondered once again how exactly it was the strange creatures were planning on doing battle.
Borbos, he thought, realization suddenly dawning on him, what about the rest of the...er...animals down here? We can't just leave them unprotected. They had begun to rise swiftly from the sea floor, and soon the strange myriad creatures were lost among the blue haze.
They'll be fine, lad, the Titan answered. It be us the Behemoth hunts, not them.
Another deep groan thundered toward them. It seemed closer, though distance was admittedly difficult to judge with ears full of water. But do you really think it isn't getting closer? Will thought to himself, pushing away his hopeful subconscious. Now was not the time to be living in the land of faeries and rainbows and sunshine.
They left the palace at the bottom of the sea as quickly as they had arrived, and soon Will was enveloped once again in the stifling black, surrounded by the dull, shimmering golden outlines of his companions. He noticed that the Sea Spirit, however, looked different; rather than gold streamers of kelp, Will saw...he shook his head in confusion. It looked like an elongated cloud of golden dust. But that couldn't be right—he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and looked again.
Strange, no? Borbos' voice said in his head. The Titan was staring at him with a sad smile. The sea be a big place, Will, and I cannot be everywhere at once—or underwater all the time, for that matter. The Sea Spirit takes my place whenever I leave, but...he be part of my soul. It be a tremendous strain, staying apart from something so vital, but it be a price I must pay.
But...that doesn't explain why it looks like a cloud of dust, Will thought back.
“He,” Borbos said sternly, not “it.” And he looks that way because he be just shy of real.
Will stared at him for a moment, confused. What?
The Sea Spirit be mostly an extension of my mind and soul, with a dollop of your power thrown into the mix. Where our bodies be made of flesh and blood and bone, his be made of...something else. The Void, maybe, if such a thing be possible. He shrugged. Regardless, his true form be different from ours.
But—wait, so the gold outline shows what we really look like? But Feothon told me that the Titans all have true forms that aren't human. He raised his hand in front of his face—it was human. I look like a human. You look like a human. Mostly. He shook his head. I don't understand.
Borbos nodded emphatically. All true, all
true. These be not our true skins. Not really. But we be gods, Will. If we tell the world that we be human, then to the world we be human. For the Sea Spirit, it be different. You be stronger than an ant, yes?
Will cocked an eyebrow. Yes...obviously...
Aye. So where you can lift and swing a sword with ease, an ant can carry around only a small sliver of metal. You and I, we have power beyond comprehension—you especially. But the Sea Spirit, he be the ant. When he tells the world something, it does not always have to listen.
Will nodded and said no more.
You know, Clare's voice said in his mind after a short silence, that looks extremely strange watching you two have a conversation when I can't hear it. It makes you look like madmen.
Will laughed, loosing a heavy stream of bubbles into the depths; they trailed away in a flurry of glinting gold. I'm sure it must, he said. He paused for a moment, and a thought entered his mind. Clare, back before we got attacked...you were going to say something. What, ah...what was it? He swallowed, suddenly nervous, and he felt his heart beat harder in his chest. His mind raced around at all the possibilities, and at some of them he felt his stomach twist anxiously.
But she was silent. For a moment he was afraid she was angry about what he had said earlier, but when he looked over at her he found she had turned in his direction. Her eyes, though, darted every which way, as though searching for the answer to a difficult riddle. She licked her lips—a redundant gesture, Will thought absently—and opened her mouth to speak before realizing that physical speech was impossible. I was...ah... He saw her take a deep breath and let it out very, very slowly. I was going to say that...that back in the Forest, when Borost died, he told me something important. She closed her eyes. He said that no matter what, I should listen to—
The deep, grating bellow that halted her words was so close that Will nearly tumbled off of his water drake. He looked over his shoulder, unsure of what to expect, and saw...nothing. Perhaps the beast was not so close after all.
Borbos, however, seemed to be of a different mindset entirely.
Go! he screamed, rattling Will's mind with the intensity of his thoughts. Go, go, go!
Will had thought they were moving fast before. When his water drake suddenly leaped forward, however, and he was almost thrown from his mount, he realized that they had not been moving very quickly at all. His grip tightened reflexively on the drake's spines, and he was just barely able to avoid spinning off into the abyss. He looked over to make sure that Clare was still there and saw with relief that she was, though her face was pinched in a mask of anxiety. She turned toward him and flashed him a rather forced grin.
Borbos, slow down! he thought frantically. It can't be that close behind us—I don't even see it!
Oh, it's there, boy, the Titan said, and Will heard fear in his words.
And then, as if to emphasize Borbos' words, Will heard a scream. He looked back just in time to see one of the merfolk being dragged bodily through the water by...nothing. Will stared in confusion, uncomprehending. And then another merman disappeared, his pig-like eyes bulging as the life was crushed out of him, and soon the golden forms around him began to vanish with terrifying rapidity.
Father, the Sea Spirit said, and his voice was maddeningly calm. My guardians can hold it off for a short while. But it will be a very short while.
Borbos glanced first at Clare, and then at Will. Do it, he said. We have precious cargo. Later, Will decided, he would have to thank Borbos for caring so much about Clare's well-being.
The Sea Spirit's golden cloud-body began to pulsate then, and a strange, deep thrumming began to course rhythmically through the water. It reached Will's ears with unnatural clarity, seeming to fill his entire body with its music. The sound almost reminded him of an instrument he had once seen a fellow mercenary play—it had been little more than a log with bee's wax around the small end, but when the man had blown into it an unearthly and strangely beautiful bellow had emanated from the instrument's cavernous bottom.
The sound Will was hearing now was very similar, and it had the same soporific effect on him. His eyelids fluttered as the melody began to lull him to sleep against his will, and he had to fight fiercely against the urge to close his eyes.
And then the nautilus guardians turned smoothly around, never breaking their arrowhead formation as they began to drift slowly farther and farther toward the back of the group. The deep music—for that was the only way Will could describe the noise—intensified, and blue light began to glow from within the depths of the nautiluses' spiraling shells. Sky-blue light, Will realized, and no sooner had the thought entered his mind than a cloud of the tiny glowing squid began to billow from where Will assumed each of the guardians' mouths were. The minuscule creatures danced to and fro, their numbers ever-growing and their light waxing steadily brighter, until soon the golden outlines disappeared and Will could see the people around him with daylight clarity.
In a flash the cloud of squid shot away into the dark toward the back of the racing pack, where they began to spread into one enormous, twisting cloud.
And, for a brief moment, Will saw it.
It was massive—at least as big as the Leviathan, if not bigger, but where the Leviathan had emanated a sense of peace and tranquility despite its fierce appearance, the Behemoth radiated pure hatred and anger. Will saw the head of what he guessed was a long, worm-like body, its mouth opened like the petals of a diseased flower. Hundreds of wickedly sharp teeth covered the insides of its gaping maw, and long, roping tentacles snaked out from its gullet, questing through the darkness as though they had minds of their own. It screamed as the light touched it, a sound so loud and piercing that it pummeled Will with enough force to daze him and leave his ears ringing. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head, and then he saw the cloud of squid begin to wrap around the monstrosity's tentacles and mouth, forcing it back into the depths despite its immensity. It screamed once more as it disappeared, and this time Will nearly fell off of his drake, barely catching himself at the last moment.
He whipped his head around almost drunkenly, suddenly afraid that Clare had fallen—but, though she looked in much the same condition as he, she had been able to keep her grip as well.
How long? Borbos' voice asked in his head.
Not very, the Sea Spirit answered. We have precious little time to reach the City.
The mention of the surface cleared Will's head abruptly. Wait, he asked, we're not going to meet the others?
Borbos shook his head. Not yet, lad. We'd never make it if we tried. Our best bet be to wait in the City until the Leviathan can reach us. Then we'll make a break for the flotilla.
I hope the others are alright, Clare's voice said, and he knew that the thought was for him alone. He nodded, a sick feeling twisting inside his stomach—not for his own safety, but for that of his friends. If they had only encountered a small guardian force in the depths, what must it have been like on the surface? His thoughts went immediately to Castor, Katryna, and Hook, and he blanched.
Me too, he said, and though he tried to make the thought sound brave he knew he was failing. Death and damnation, what if they don't make it? This whole thing was a trap. There have to be thousands of tamyat on the surface.
If they don't, Clare said fiercely, we'll kill every last one of those monsters.
Will nodded weakly, but did not respond.
He was surprised by the speed with which they finally reached the surface, though he supposed he should not have been; as fast as they were going, covering so much distance so quickly would have been an easy feat.
What surprised him even more was the fact that, on the surface, the darkness did not abate. He looked up in confusion as his head broke through the water and out into the clean air, and saw with a shock that the sky was inky black and covered in stars. They're different here, he thought in a secluded portion of his mind—and then he coughed, hacking and gagging as his lungs tried to forcefully expel the mermaid's gift
from inside of them. It came out in a thin stream of silver that glowed in the moonlight, splashing back into the ocean, and he watched bemusedly as it seemed to dart back down to the depths like a fish. He shook his head a moment later, deciding that the sea was perhaps too strange for him.
Borbos, he thought, looking back up at the stars, how long have we been down there?
When he did not get a response, he realized with some embarrassment that sharing thoughts was no longer necessary—not to mention most likely impossible back on the surface. He repeated his question out loud.
“A long while, obviously,” Borbos replied, looking at the sky. “The whole day. Time moves differently beneath the waves, lad.”
Off in the distance, Will could just make out the towering spires of the City in the Waves, its white walls shining in the moonlight. They made for it hastily, kicking up plumes of water in their wake as they raced toward what Will hoped would be relative safety. He was having doubts, however, about the fortitude of a city made of coral in the face of the Behemoth's onslaught, even bolstered as it was by the songs of the merfolk.
As the City drew near, he noticed that the merfolk were not their only companions on the waves; he saw tall, curved fins carving silent paths along the surface, and he felt an inexplicable thrill of fear shiver through him. He heard Clare gasp, and saw that she too was staring at the new arrivals.
“Sharks,” she said in a small voice when she saw Will looking at her. “The same things we saw before.”
Will recognized the fins then, and with the realization came a very vivid memory of a mouth full of serrated teeth. He shuddered. “I think they're on our side, though,” he said softly. “Otherwise they would have attacked us by now.” He noted then that there were a rather large number of fins—he guessed somewhere in the hundreds—and he added, “And I think we'd have been in a bit of trouble.”
“I'm never coming back to the sea after this,” Clare said, squeezing her eyes shut and exhaling slowly. “This is the most terrifying place I've ever been in my life.” Will could not have agreed more.