Seahaven: an Underwater Fantasy Adventure (The Seacret Trilogy Book 1)

by Raymond Cain

  “Was one of your kind responsible for their deaths?”

  The merman snorted, releasing bubbles that rose to the ceiling, and he grabbed Flynn by the collar. With a swish of his tail, he yanked Flynn out of the cave and carried him up toward the tunnel entrance. The merman swam so fast, Flynn wondered if his tunic would tear in half.

  As they traveled up through the maze of tunnels, Flynn didn’t know what the merman would do with him, or to him. He guessed the mystical creature was leaving the lair to avoid making a mess when he killed Flynn with the trident. When they left the tunnel and entered the open sea, Flynn gulped in fear and waited for the end to come.

  But it didn’t come. Instead, the merman continued swimming along the ocean floor. They left Flynn’s ship behind and he gulped again, wondering what was in store for him. The Safe Zone barrier shrunk further in the distance and his shoulders slumped in resignation. It was unlikely he would see home again.

  Barracudas, sharks, and eels moved out of their path, testament to their ability to recognize the merman as the more dangerous creature. Before that day, Flynn thought of merfolk as elegant and beautiful. He didn’t think they were powerful enough to command such respect from ocean predators. He felt like a fool for thinking of merfolk as elusive creatures that avoided people out of fear.

  After miles of moss-covered hills passed below them, the merman slowed his speed. Assuming exhaustion had set in, Flynn realized his error when they descended toward a man-sized pile of stones on the ocean floor. It appeared to be a burial mound. The merman released Flynn and pointed at the mound with the trident.

  Puzzled, Flynn inspected the stones and caught a glint of something white buried underneath them. He removed some rocks and found a buried human skeleton wearing white chitin armor. The curve of the breast plates marked the wearer as female but the bones were picked clean and he could not identify her. But something about her brown hair looked strangely familiar.

  Flynn cleared more rubble, creating a dust cloud around the body. He cleared off the rest of the rubble and when he saw the insignia on the breastplates, his jaw dropped. The left breastplate was emblazoned with a blade with fins, identical to the pendant his mother gave him. The right side was emblazoned with his crossed-trident family logo. His mind was reeling and he fell backward, giving rise to another dust cloud.

  It was his mother’s remains.

  “It can’t be.” Flynn sat up and sobbed, burying his face in his hands and blinking tears into the ocean. “It can’t be you.”

  By the time Flynn finished crying, he collected his wits enough to consider the chitin armor. “Why were you wearing that? You’re a miner.”

  Looking around for the merman for answers, Flynn found that the creature had disappeared. There was nothing to protect him from the sharks, eels, and other predators swimming nearby but he paid them no mind. None of that seemed important after discovering his mother’s final resting place. He always suspected she was gone but it was still shocking to have those suspicions confirmed. It was doubly surprising considering the armor she wore.

  There was a narrow hole in one of her breastplates. The blow that killed her appeared to be from a sword, not a trident. After months of hating merfolk for what happened to his parents, it appeared they were not responsible for his mother’s death. And he had a feeling they weren’t responsible for his father’s death either.

  Flynn studied the blade-and-fins pendant on his necklace and wondered what it meant. He felt certain the merman spared his life because of it, but why? He laid his hand on his mother’s armor and silently thanked her for the necklace.

  A soft blue glow radiated from something beneath the armor. Flynn muttered a quiet apology as he disturbed his mother’s remains to fetch the glowing object. It was a fist-sized aquazite sphere, filled with water, and floating inside it was a tiny arrow made of red and blue crystal. He gave it a shake and the arrow drifted, pointing at nothing. A broken compass?

  Flynn wondered what it all meant. His mother’s armor, the pendant, and the compass made no sense. It seemed his mother led a secret life and kept it from him and Tasker. Perhaps their father was more than just a simple miner as well.

  It was as good a resting place as any and Flynn piled the stones back on his mother’s remains. A ten-foot-long great white shark passed by an arm’s length away and he ignored it, mainly due to the fact there was little he could do if it attacked him. With a heavy heart, he swam back toward his ship and, fortunately, he did not get attacked along the way. He wondered if the merman was hidden nearby, ensuring none of the predators would attack.

  Flynn’s steel and crystal vessel lay where he left it, next to the cave leading to the merfolk lair. As he climbed in, he thought about the tales of evil merfolk that were passed down for centuries. Flynn nodded toward the cave, grateful to the merman for teaching him the error of his ways, and for showing him his mother’s resting place.

  After climbing into his ship, Flynn flew by sixgill sharks, fangtooth fish, and a giant octopus on the way back to the Safe Zone. He let out a sigh and relaxed his grip on the acceleration lever as he approached the barrier. The golems made no move to prevent him from entering, and as he passed them he thought about the story he was about to tell his brother. Tasker would be excited to hear what happened.

  Chapter Seven

  “You don’t really expect me to believe that story, do you?” Tasker asked, his dark eyebrows furrowed in doubt. He was a fair-skinned twenty-one year old with a slender build, and he leaned back in a chair made entirely from water. He wore orange kelp work clothes covered in pockets that bulged with tools. He forced his fingers through disheveled black hair and scraped a hand over stubbled cheeks that hadn’t seen a razor in days. He appeared to be rolling around the tale he had just heard in his mind.

  Flynn rolled his eyes. “Yes, actually, I did.”

  “Merfolk, a strange ship, a strange dragon,” Tasker began, counting off the hard-to-believe items on his fingers. “Our mother in armor, a magical compass—no aspect of this story is plausible.”

  Flynn let out an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t how he’d expected the conversation to play out. But, considering his brother’s skeptical nature, he should have.

  Tasker tapped his chin, knowingly. “Naturally, this dubious tale leads me to seek a more credible explanation for what you did all day. Considering your impetuous and frivolous nature, I presume you spent the day joyriding.”

  Joyriding was a reasonable guess, considering it was Flynn’s favorite way to pass the time. There was no greater joy than being behind the steering globe of a crystal ship and watching marine life fly past your windows. But admitting that would only make his story sound less credible. Acting innocent was the smarter play. “Joyriding? That doesn’t sound like me.”

  Tasker cocked his head to the side, clearly unconvinced. “You could substantiate at least one part of your story by showing me the compass.”

  Eager to prove himself, Flynn reached under his tunic for the crystal sphere. But he stopped when his fingers touched it. Even if he convinced Tasker about what happened, what good would that serve? All that would do was hurt his brother by proving his mother kept secrets from him. He decided to spare Tasker’s feelings by keeping the truth to himself.

  “You’re right, Tasker. I was joyriding. I just wanted to see if you’d believe me.”

  “I thought so,” Tasker said. He picked up a crystalline weapon from his worktable and studied it. It had a hollow crystal tube with a handle attached, and he poured a flask of aquazite-enriched water into the tube. With all his attention focused on his project, it was clear he was no longer interested in conversing with Flynn.

  Tasker donned an aquazite helmet that had seven watery tentacles protruding from it. Two tentacles picked up the weapon and two more picked up tools for cutting and shaping. A third pair of tentacles had glowing ends and the last tentacle held a magnifying glass. The last tentacle traded the magnifying glass for a sanding too
l and started buffing away the rough edges.

  “Well, I’m pretty tired,” Flynn said as his brother continued to ignore him. He scowled and added, “So I think I’ll cut myself a few times and go swim with some sharks.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Tasker replied with a dismissive wave. “I’m quite busy so feel free to go do that elsewhere so I can do my work.”

  “I will. I really enjoy these conversations, thanks,” Flynn muttered, taking his cue to leave. He stepped over propellers and scrap metal strewn about on the floor and headed for the exit.

  Before leaving the room, Flynn dragged his fingers through a thick pane of water dominating the west wall. It was Tasker’s aquarium, a body of water that was two-feet thick, twenty-feet wide, and ten-feet tall. It had no walls and it held its shape through the use of aquazite dust in the water and an enchantment that Tasker imbued into it during its creation. Jellyfish, angelfish, comb jellies, and tiny squid lit up the tank with their bioluminescent glow. A cuttlefish and a small octopus camouflaged themselves among the glowing plants on the bottom of the tank and Flynn tried to spot them.

  The sides of the aquarium bulged as larger fish moved near the edges. One fish poked its face through the surface and created ripples extending outward from its nose. It had thick lips, bulbous eyes, and rainbow colors that shimmered along its sides. Flynn tried to give it a friendly tap on the nose but it darted back under the surface.

  When Flynn’s finger touched the water, a nearby transparent fish went after him. It was a lightning fish, a ball-shaped marine species that remained nearly invisible until it became aggressive. When angry—which was always—it produced electrical energy inside its spherical body.

  The lightning fish released a bolt of electricity that leapt through the water and entered Flynn’s finger. He reeled back and poked his scolded finger into his mouth. His reflection in the aquarium revealed the jolt made his chestnut brown hair stand on end. He withdrew a coral-handled dagger from his belt sheath and glared at the fish. A backward glance revealed Tasker grinding away at his crystalline weapon, and Flynn slid the blade back into its scabbard. The lightning fish was a nuisance but it was also one of Tasker’s prized specimens. It would not go unnoticed if there was a dagger sticking out of it.

  As Flynn approached the back of the room, his family ring flickered and a stone door swung open on watery hinges. A pair of water golem guards parted to let him through and he entered a small, circular room. A wide crystal disc was set into the floor and a pool of water rumbled below him. After he closed the door, a pillar of water rose from the pool and slammed into the disc, carrying Flynn up to the next level.

  The disc arrived at its destination, a secret door leading into a hallway. Flynn walked along blue flagstones toward his bedroom and when he arrived, his crystal ring flashed and the door opened. He stripped off his clothes and plopped down onto his bed, sending ripples through the watery mattress. He twisted side-to-side to stretch out his back muscles and commanded the bed to soothe him. The mattress responded by bubbling and churning against his aching muscles, eliciting a groan of pleasure. His brother was often annoying—especially when he was talking—but inventions like the waterbed made Tasker easier to tolerate.

  Chapter Eight

  A water golem slapped Flynn awake the following morning. Bolting upright, he flailed punches and shouted insults at the offensive construct. His attacks halted when he noticed a piece of paper floating in its chest. He yanked it out, creating ripples and a bloop sound as the watery torso snapped back into place.

  Get up. After all your joyriding yesterday, we need two days’ worth of crystal today.

  -Tasker

  The golem turned for the door, its feet making wet, squishy sounds on the flagstones as it walked. Flynn wrinkled his nose and flared a single nostril in irritation. He crumpled up the letter and tossed it at the golem, grinning in satisfaction as it sank into the construct as it left the room.

  After dressing himself in a kempcloth shirt and trousers, Flynn donned his blue tunic. He pulled on a pair of inkskin swimming boots and left the room.

  After exiting the double-doors and dodging liquid tridents and dancing feet from the merfolk fountains on the lawn, the front gate opened wide. The fruity smell of flowers and the mist from distant waterfalls went unnoticed as he walked along a white cobblestone path. He stifled a yawn and rubbed his glossy eyes.

  The path curved behind one of the waterfalls and the cool mist raised goosebumps on Flynn’s skin. He’d stretched out to touch the water with his fingertips when he noticed his reflection. A tuft of brown hair was sticking up in the back and he used his wet hand to try to force it down. As usual, it resisted his efforts.

  The cobblestones led down to a mile-wide ledge known as Uppercity, the wealthy section of Seahaven. It was home to a network of white stone streets and majestic stone buildings. Some of the luxurious houses displayed magical playsets on their front lawns. Kids slid down waterslides, bounced on watery cushions, and swam through floating swimming pools. The buildings were elegant stone structures, built from the same white stone as the streets. Water sculptures decorated the outer walls, endlessly shifting between ornate patterns.

  Garbage golems kept the streets clean by soaking up dust and litter with their feet. Flynn smiled when a pair of mischievous young boys attracted the attention of a garbage golem by throwing a bottle of squid ink against a wall. The bottle smashed, leaving a black smudge on the stone surface. The golem pushed its head against the wall and churned, absorbing the ink and glass into its torso.

  Flynn arrived at a means of transport known as The Lift, a twenty-foot wide loop of water that extended between the two levels of the city. He crossed a short water bridge that extended from the street onto a platform large enough to hold thirty people. Three liquid railings encircled the platform and he wrapped his hands around the top rail, his fingers sinking in slightly.

  The platform carried him down to Lowercity, the lower section of Seahaven. The streets were laid with red cobblestones and the buildings had images of people and marine life carved into them. Much of the city’s history was carved into its buildings, but much of the finer stonework was chipped and worn with time. Lowercity had less elegant buildings and fewer garbage golems to clean the streets, but Flynn still preferred it to Uppercity. The old buildings had more character than the elegant structures above, and the citizens living there were easier to get along with.

  Many of the women he passed wore dresses or skirts made from seagrass, long grass blades woven together and decorated with seashells. Most men wore breeches crafted from kelp or kempcloth, and jackets made from kelp or inkskin. Some of the more eccentric citizens wore multicolor outfits, woven from a variety of colorful marine plants.

  Ahead of Flynn lay the Waterway, the main mode of transit in Lowercity. It was a moving canal twenty-feet wide and two miles long. The canal meandered through the streets and the current moved as fast as a person could run. Hundreds of ice chunks floated along the canal and they were enchanted to remain afloat, regardless of how much weight was placed on them.

  Flynn stepped onto an eight-foot wide piece of ice and he felt a slight breeze as it carried him along. Before long, a water golem stepped onto the ice with him. It was a thin construct, about five-feet tall, and it carried a page in its chest. Ever curious, Flynn glanced at the page and realized it was a letter, written in squid ink, and it was easily legible through the watery torso.

  Flynn knew the importance of minding his own business and, as usual, he suppressed it. The flowing curve of the writing and tiny hearts drawn on the letter suggested that a woman wrote it. The first line mentioned the recipient’s wife, identifying the page as a love letter between a married man and his mistress. His curiosity took him by force and he strained to read more.

  The water golem seemed to realize Flynn was reading its private cargo and held up its arms to block his gaze. Its watery hands were hardly an effective barrier, considering what they were ma
de from.

  “Seriously?” Flynn said. “Do you really think that makes it any harder to read? Why don’t you make bubbles or something?”

  The golem stuck up its watery fist and re-shaped its hand into an offensive gesture.

  It was the first time a golem insulted Flynn and it took him by surprise. He scowled and shoved the golem, pushing nearly hard enough for his hands to burst out its back. The golem fell into the water and angrily shook a watery fist at Flynn, reshaping it once more into the same rude gesture. An instant later, the next ice chunk on the Waterway came along and smashed the golem’s head flat. It took many moments for the construct to reform itself and return to the surface.

  Flynn laughed. “That’s what you get for giving me the finger. Or digit. Or whatever that was.”

  The air changed from fruity to salty as he neared the docks. Flynn hopped off the ice and left the Waterway. The docks were only a few blocks away and he chose a route that took him by the Drunken Mermaid tavern.

  The Drunken Mermaid was a low-class establishment frequented by sailors, merchants, and college students. What it lacked in cleanliness, it made up for with bad-tasting food and watered-down drinks. Fights often broke out inside and Flynn enjoyed seeing people get thrown out of the place.

  As he’d hoped, there was commotion inside. He peeked through a window as an intoxicated patron was tossed through the front door and sent tumbling onto the cobblestone street. After some groaning and a great deal of effort, the drunk got back up and dusted himself off. He had a black eye, scraped elbows, and a bloody lip. The man wiped his bleeding lip on his sleeve and staggered away, grumbling with every step.

  Flynn sighed with envy. It wouldn’t be long before he could get thrown out of the Drunken Mermaid. All he needed was a college ring to get inside and his personality would take care of the rest.

  The piers were only a few steps away and Flynn paused when he saw a familiar group of boys standing on one of them. Titus and four of his cronies stood next to five extravagant ships. The ships were the same sleek hulled-vessels crafted from polished steel and emblazoned in gold that he saw earlier. The windows and much of the hulls were crafted from aquazite.