Treacherous Seas

by LM Brown

  “No, Mother,” Caspian said. “Rafe has remained my prisoner in the catacombs beneath my temple from that day to this. I trusted in your powers and knew that one day Phoebus would return to me, and that when he did, he should have the opportunity to face his murderer.”

  “Nevertheless,” Cynbel said, “it does not answer the question as to how.”

  Caspian met his father’s eyes. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

  “No doubt, but we need to hear you say it.”

  Caspian braced himself. “I let him drink from the cup of immortality in place of Phoebus.”

  Several immortals gasped at his words but Caspian ignored them, remaining focused on his father.

  “You know it is forbidden to let a mortal drink from the cup without the permission of the pantheon?”

  “I do.” Caspian gestured around the table. “But with all due respect, most of you were asleep, and unable to debate the issue.”

  “That is not the point!” Cynbel rose from the table, his voice booming through the whole island. “This action cannot go unpunished.”

  Caspian tried not to cringe in the face of his father’s fury. He supposed he had known that what he was doing was wrong. Even as he’d placed the cup in Rafe’s reach, knowing the priest would drink it, he had wondered what repercussions he would have to face when the rest of the gods found out what he had done.

  “I accept whatever punishment you see fit,” Caspian said. Thankfully, his voice remained steady.

  “We will need to think on this and consider,” his father replied. “As for Rafe…”

  The Atlantean appeared at Caspian's side, still chained.

  Andaman rose to stand beside Caspian. “I made the manacles that hold Rafe, and I did so knowing what Caspian intended for him.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Caspian said. “I never told you I intended to make him immortal. You only suspected.”

  Andaman shook his head and clasped Caspian’s shoulder. “No, my friend. I knew, because if I had been in your place, I would have done the same thing. Had you called for a vote, I would have found in your favor.”

  Caspian hung his head, overwhelmed at Andaman’s words. That the other god considered him a friend came as something of a surprise. Yes, they were among the few who had remained a part of the world, while the rest of the pantheon had been in stasis, but it wasn’t as if they went down to the tavern for a drink in the evening or out to a club in the modern world.

  Andaman had always been a loner and had never taken the trouble to hide his contempt for Caspian’s promiscuous lifestyle. They had little in common, and after losing Phoebus, Caspian had done nothing to encourage others to keep him company.

  Maybe we have more in common than I thought.

  Caspian turned to his sister. “What about you? How would you have voted?”

  Cari wouldn’t face him. “I don’t know. I am torn because I would have wished to support your decision, but I, of all people, know how little can be achieved by focusing on the past.”

  “It doesn’t matter how any of you would have voted,” Cynbel said. “The fact of the matter is that Caspian didn’t tell anyone what he intended to do.”

  “Better he makes an Atlantean immortal than one of the mer,” Mariana commented loudly.

  Caspian glared at her. The Goddess of Sea Creatures really should have learned to keep her mouth closed and her opinions to herself.

  Cynbel ignored her and turned his attention to Rafe. “To send an immortal out into the world with no memories is asking for trouble. Sooner or later he—and those around him—will realize that he does not age and heals unnaturally quickly.”

  “Can’t he be stripped of his immortality?” Andaman asked.

  “No,” Cynbel replied. “If he were born immortal, as the gods are, our powers can be removed by one of our parents. But Rafe drank from the cup, which poses something of a problem.”

  Rafe remained silent as the gods debated his fate.

  “I say we send him out there and let him deal with the consequences,” Andaman suggested. “What difference does it make to us if the humans discover what he is? It’s not as if he has any god powers…other than the ability to heal and not age, of course.”

  Several of the immortals around the table nodded in agreement.

  “Humans no longer believe in us,” Cari said. “Even the raising of Atlantis did little to change this. They talk of earthquakes and climate change, and search for scientific explanations for what we did. Even if Rafe were to be discovered, they would not think of us. They would study his genes to find the reason for his longevity.”

  “Cari is right,” Medina said. “I say we erase his memory and toss him down in the middle of a random city…naked.”

  Caspian tried to hide his smile at Medina’s final comment, but his lips twitched of their own accord. He didn’t like Medina. He never had and he suspected he never would, but in this they were of one mind.

  “This is hardly constructive,” Cynbel said.

  Medina shrugged. “That vile creature murdered an innocent, a sweet young merman who had just found his true love. He does not deserve anything from us except our contempt. He should be castrated and—”

  “Thank you, Medina,” Cynbel shouted, while Rafe struggled to cup his groin, despite the manacles.

  Cynbel walked over to Caspian and Rafe and stood before them. “Caspian, is there anything you wish to say to Rafe before I remove his memories and banish him?”

  “No, thank you, Father. I have already said all I wish to say to him.”

  “And Marin?” Odessa asked. “What does he have to say about this?”

  “Marin is the one who suggested this,” Caspian said.

  “That weak creature couldn’t even kill me,” Rafe snarled.

  “Silence.” With a wave of his hand Cynbel forced his command on Rafe.

  “Leave him like that,” Medina suggested. “Mute, naked and with no memory. Hmm, I like that. Where are you going to drop him? Might I suggest somewhere in New York?”

  Cynbel rolled his eyes and, with another wave of his hand, Rafe vanished.

  “Where did you send him?” Caspian asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “I suppose not.”

  Medina made a noise of mild annoyance. Caspian had a feeling she wanted to know more than anyone else in the room. She really was not a goddess to cross, and he should know.

  Cari smiled smugly across the table toward Medina. Caspian could tell she had already seen where Rafe had been deposited. He had no doubt she would tease Medina with her knowledge for months.

  “Is there anything else you would ask of the pantheon?” Odessa asked. “While we are all gathered here.”

  “No, Mother,” Caspian said.

  “You do not wish for Marin to be made immortal?”

  Caspian shook his head. “No, or at least not yet. Maybe not ever.”

  Odessa gave him a sad smile. “Come, my son. Let us talk privately.”

  The meeting broke up, leaving Caspian and his mother alone.

  “What is it you wish to say to me?” Caspian asked.

  Odessa hooked her arm through Caspian’s. “How are things going with Marin?”

  “Slowly,” Caspian admitted. “He loved Calder very much, and it will take time before he’s ready to move on. Sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever be able to. They were together for far longer than Phoebus and I were.”

  “You do realize that while they are of one soul, Marin is a different person from Phoebus?”

  “Yes. He is much more forceful than Phoebus—and stubborn. Times have changed and Marin is a modern merman.”

  “I wasn’t aware that the mer had changed that much over the centuries. What little I have seen of them since my return does not seem so different to how they were before.”

  “They have not changed as much as humans, but there are some differences. Or maybe it’s just that I didn’t see what was
there.”

  “You mean with regard to Phoebus?”

  “Yes. I loved him so completely, but I’m no longer sure that he felt the same. He said the words, but he was very young and inexperienced.”

  “He was prepared to give up the sea for you,” Odessa reminded him. “Only one who loves you with his whole heart and soul would make such a sacrifice.”

  “I know, but—”

  “But what?”

  “I wonder whether he would have agreed to that if I had not pushed him into it. He was also aware of Medina’s curse, and like any other young mortal, he did not wish to die.”

  “The curse has run its course,” Odessa reminded him. “If you were to ask him now, he would not be swayed by such fears.”

  “If I were to ask him now, he would say no. He does not love me.”

  “Not yet, perhaps.”

  “Maybe not ever.”

  “In time, his feelings for you will grow, providing you don’t give up on him.”

  Caspian didn’t want to, but neither could he push Marin into accepting him. He wanted his love to be given freely.

  “Do you think he could ever give up his fins?” Odessa asked.

  “I don’t know. Phoebus was reluctant, and I suspect Marin will be even more so. It’s a pointless question anyway. The pantheon will never allow me to make such a petition again.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “Even though I allowed Rafe to drink from the cup?” Caspian hadn’t forgotten his father’s decree that he would be punished for his actions.

  “That was a foolish thing to do, but you know as well as I do that it was done on the spur of the moment. Had you thought things through, I doubt you would have made the same decision.”

  “I did think things through,” Caspian argued. “I only gave him the cup when I had talked myself out of killing him there and then. I never considered how I might feel centuries later—or what Phoebus would say.”

  “Did Phoebus ever tell you I talked to him before I made my decision on your petition?”

  “He told me he’d met you but not what you’d talked about.”

  “Mostly we talked about you. It was I who told him about the curse. I didn’t realize he wasn’t aware of it.”

  “It’s not your fault. I should have told him myself. He deserved honesty and I failed to give it to him. I’m determined to do better this time around.”

  “Even the gods have lessons to learn.”

  “I just hope it isn’t too late.”

  “I will speak to Marin, if you think it will help.”

  “Thank you, but no. He needs time, and I intend to give it to him.”

  As they rounded a corner, Caspian saw Isander and Dolph ahead of them. The two Atlanteans still hadn’t decided where they would settle among the humans. He should probably have a private word with them before his father ran out of patience with their stalling.

  “Cynbel will not push them,” Odessa told him, in answer to his thoughts. “They are making themselves useful around here with cleaning up various temples.”

  “They are?”

  “Medina and Cari set them to work. Neither of them likes to see idle hands.”

  “Maybe I’ll have them come around to my temple,” Caspian suggested. “It could use a little work.”

  “You’ve let it fall into ruin,” Odessa chided.

  “It wasn’t as if I was living there all these years,” Caspian pointed out. “I have made my home among humans for centuries now.”

  “What’s that like?”

  Something in his mother’s tone gave Caspian reason to pause. “Why do you ask?”

  Odessa gestured to the buildings around them. “Look at what has become of us. We have no followers, no one to worship us. What is there left for us here?”

  “You’re thinking of living on the mortal plane?” Caspian hoped she didn’t intend to move into his spare room. He quickly buried that thought deep inside and reassured himself that Marin was now in that room and not likely to move into the master bedroom any time soon.

  “Cynbel rejects the idea, but I would like to see what has become of the world. Medina enjoys her time among humans and is already increasing her followers. She even has a new priest.”

  “One she tricked into the post,” Caspian reminded her.

  “She still sees the advantages to be gained from spending time in the world, rather than hiding out here on this isle of ghosts.”

  Caspian could see his mother’s point. The island had once teemed with life, but now it was almost deserted.

  “Why do you not seek followers?” Odessa asked.

  “I have no wish to return to that life.”

  “I’m not talking about taking lovers. Goodness knows, I never understood why you insisted on having sexual relations with all your priests. It would never have happened if you’d hired a few young maidens.”

  Caspian rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about that either. I have no wish to be worshipped. I don’t want power or followers. I already hear the calls of so many humans who seek justice. The last thing I want is to be deafened by billions of calls to me personally. With so many humans alive today and so much injustice in the world, I’m not sure I could handle it.”

  “You underestimate yourself.”

  “I’m tired, Mother. Sometimes I feel that I’ve lived too long.”

  “All immortals feel that way at some point. You are at a crossroads in your life. You are on the brink of regaining your love and beginning a new chapter in your story. It’s only natural that you would question the direction in which you’re traveling.”

  Caspian sat down on a stone bench and his mother, after cleaning the dust and weeds from it with a wave of her hand, joined him.

  “What if Marin never loves me as Phoebus did? What will I do then?”

  “He will live his life, be reborn and you will find him again. Perhaps next time he will come into your life before finding another love.”

  “No, Mother. It won’t happen. This is my last chance, my only chance.”

  “My magic is strong. He will be reborn.”

  Caspian shook his head. “I want you to undo your spell.”

  “But if I do that, the mer will no longer reincarnate. They will do as they did before, and you’ll never find Phoebus again.”

  “It has taken hundreds of years for Phoebus to be reborn as Marin. The mer won’t last that long. Their numbers are falling with each generation. You must undo your magic, or their entire race will be lost.”

  “But—”

  Caspian took his mother’s hands in his own. “Phoebus was mer. Marin is mer. They are a peaceful, loving race who, through no fault of their own, are on the brink of extinction. I know neither Phoebus nor Marin would wish to see the end of their people. That’s not who they are.”

  “You would give up your chance for love for the mer?”

  “I still have one more chance,” Caspian said. “And if I cannot win his love, then I don’t deserve him.”

  “You know that if I do as you ask, I cannot later change my mind and cast the spell again? I haven’t the strength to manage it, not even for a single merman. It took all of my powers the last time.”

  “I understand.”

  “Then I will do as you ask,” Odessa said.

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  Odessa teared a little at his use of his childhood name for her. She closed her eyes and Caspian watched the concentration on her face. Her power rippled through him where they touched. A gust of wind blew across the island, a cloud passed over the sun and it was done.

  “Now, go win the heart of your merman,” Odessa said.

  Caspian wished it was as easy as she made it sound.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The mating season was just around the corner again. Marin couldn’t believe it had arrived so quickly, but the fever was unmistakable.

  From the expression on his face that morning, Caspian had noticed the heat as wel
l.

  Marin sighed and stared out over the ocean, watching the tide ebb and flow. “Calder, help me. What should I do?”

  No answer came, not that he expected one. Calder was gone and he was never going to return. The one man who Marin had always turned to was out of his reach forever.

  The sun had disappeared below the horizon some time ago, but Marin hadn’t moved from his spot. Caspian could find him if he wanted to. The god had the power to transport himself to Marin’s side, no matter where he was in the world.

  He wondered what he would do if Caspian showed up on the beach now. They had become closer in recent months, but they hadn’t started a physical relationship, not even sharing so much as a kiss. Marin could tell Caspian wanted to progress things between them, but he had respected Marin’s wishes to go at a pace the merman found comfortable.

  Tonight was different, though. The mating fever was upon him and the pain was worse than last time. He knew the ache in his guts would only increase with each season he endured without seeking release.

  For the first time since Calder’s death, Marin considered the possibility of breaking his fever with another man. The thought was fleeting, but the guilt that followed lingered. How could he even think about betraying Calder’s memory?

  He sighed again and picked up a handful of sand, letting the grains run through his fingers.

  Calder wouldn’t want him to experience such discomfort, nor would he want him to spend the rest of his life alone. His lover had suffered through several mating seasons without release during his younger days, and he had never wanted to see other mermen go through the pain. The two of them had often invited mermen without a lover of their own to join them on the night of the solstice. They had never been jealous or begrudging of their occasional third.

  This was different, though. This wasn’t inviting someone to join them, nor was it simply doing what he needed to break his fever. His growing feelings for Caspian meant that if anything did happen, it could never be just sex.

  Marin pushed aside the surge of warmth he felt when he thought about Caspian. It was becoming harder each day to remember where Phoebus ended and he began. He wished he could shut out the memories of his past life and concentrate on the here and now. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so confused and he could figure out how much of what he felt was real and what were just remnants of what he had felt as Phoebus.