Strangers in Atlantis (Seaborne)

by Matt Myklusch

  Captain Lyndra’s crimson eyes bored into Dean. “Deadly serious.”

  “You said involved in a plot,” the queen stated. “Involved with whom?”

  Lyndra shook her head. “My queen, I don’t dare name my suspects without proof.”

  “But you have no problem accusing me,” Dean complained.

  “You are a stranger here.”

  “He is a guest,” the queen said, chastising Lyndra with her eyes. Her point made, Queen Avenel smiled at Dean. “The good captain forgets her manners only out of concern for my well-being. Her heart is in the right place, I am sure.”

  “Mine is too,” Dean said. “You’ve nothing to fear from me, Your Majesty.”

  “Of course not. I’ve administered this rite more times than I can count. No harm will come to me under the watchful eye of the sea god.”

  “If you would but allow me and my men to accompany you,” Lyndra began.

  “Soldiers in the chamber of Poseidon?” The queen shook her head. “You know better than that, Captain.” She motioned for Dean to join her. “Come, young man. Crowds have been gathering at the canyons all morning to see you swim with the eels. We mustn’t keep the public waiting.”

  Before Dean could move forward, Lyndra caught him by his elbow. “Know this, daredevil. Whatever happens, I’ll be seeing you again. You’d best behave yourself.”

  Dean pulled himself free of Lyndra’s grasp. Her fingers were like ice. Everything about her gave Dean the chills.

  He followed the queen to the waterfall of a wall behind her throne. Two of her guards stuck their shields into the falling water, and the arch they created revealed a doorway. “This way,” said the queen as she stepped inside. Everyone else stayed behind as Dean and Queen Avenel entered the secret passageway.

  “Blow me down,” Dean whispered, shielding his eyes as he followed the queen inside. Just behind the wall, in a room that was as bright as day, lay the Atlantean treasure vault. It was as big as the hold of a ship. Heaping mounds of gold stood before Dean, piled high like sand dunes on a beach. Sconces filled with glowing crystals from the Magic Mountains had been placed throughout the room, and their cool, steady light reflected off an endless supply of silver coins, rubies, diamonds, and pearls. Dean had never before glimpsed such a display of wealth. Zenhala’s golden orchard—even in full bloom—could not have compared.

  Three chests full of this, he thought. That’s what they had been promised. Now that Dean had seen Queen Avenel’s trove, he knew it would be enough to buy Verrick’s freedom. Three chests would be enough treasure to satisfy the greediest pirates alive, just so long as they didn’t know how much Dean had left behind.

  He followed the queen down a winding stone path in between the rolling hills of treasure, dizzied by the sight of the royal fortune.

  “Don’t forget to blink,” Queen Avenel said. “If you’re not careful, your eyes might fall out of your head.”

  Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never seen so much gold in one place.”

  “It’s pretty to look at, of course, but gold by itself serves no real purpose. For something truly priceless, we must go deeper.”

  They left the vault, moving down a metal staircase that wound its way around a massive copper tank. Wires, hoses, pipes, and gauges were scattered across the face of the tank. Dean slid his hand across it as he descended the steps. The copper tank was cool to the touch and as big as a boat. He realized he was standing beside the source of the Heavy Water that separated Atlantis from the ocean. Its contents would soon be sprayed out from the very top of the Water Tower. Dean and the queen pressed on. Farther down, Dean heard rushing water and saw what looked like fog clouds, but could not see the bottom of the chamber.

  “How much deeper can we go? Aren’t we already at the bottom of the ocean?”

  “This place is home to deeper mysteries than you can possibly fathom. You’ll see.”

  When they finally reached the bottom of the water tank, the staircase gave way to a vast cavern. Glowing crystals grew out of the wall in spiky protrusions, lighting the area. Huge waterfalls, the size of tidal waves, poured out from decorative fountainheads in the cavern walls. Torrents of viscous, oil-like water cascaded down the sides of the chamber, sending white, cloudy vapors upward. Dean waved his hands in front of his face to clear his vision. Below him, the waterfalls turned massive turbines that powered the machinery of the tower, then continued back out to sea through a tunnel at the base of the chamber.

  Queen Avenel gestured to the rushing water. “That is how you will leave this place . . . with Poseidon’s blessing, of course,” she added.

  At the very bottom of the staircase was a metal grate platform, anchored to the base of the water tank. Dean stepped onto the platform and looked through the misty fog. There was someone waiting out at the edge of the platform.

  “That isn’t . . . Poseidon?” asked Dean. Could it be he was about to meet the fabled sea god?

  The queen said nothing.

  Dean walked toward the man in the mist. Once he got close enough, he saw that it was not a person at all, but a statue. A cobalt blue mineral had grown across the floor like algae. At the edge of the platform, the blue stone had been carved in the image of Poseidon—more than seven feet tall, with powerful muscles. In one hand, he held his signature weapon and symbol of power, the trident. He held out his other hand in a welcoming gesture. A milky-white liquid leaked out from a crack in the wrist of this outstretched hand. It dripped down into a goblet at the base of the statue, one extremely slow drop at a time.

  “What you see before you is the power behind my throne,” the queen told Dean. “My kingdom is much smaller than Neptune and Abyssal, but Atlantis has held Poseidon’s favor ever since my father first built the city. The mineral from which we carved this statue grew in this chamber after construction was complete. We believe Poseidon saw what we had created here and smiled upon our efforts. That is why Atlantis alone was given the power to end Abyssal and Neptune’s great war.”

  Dean studied the strange milky liquid leaking out from the stone. “Ending the war . . . How did the Blood of Poseidon do that?”

  “By lending us the sea god’s might. If you touch this potion, you will be transformed. But if you drink it and Poseidon deems you worthy, you gain dominion over every fish in the sea. An endless, unstoppable navy. My father was the first to wield this power. Once the rulers of Neptune and Abyssal understood its depths, they had no choice but to accept the truce he enforced.”

  A lone drop of Poseidon’s blood fell into the goblet.

  “In His wisdom, Lord Poseidon gives His gift sparingly. Every month, when this glass is full, I must drink from it or else lose control over the denizens of the deep. But I am glad to spare a few drops for you today. The miraculous transformation you are about to undergo is a reminder to all that the sea god’s power is real and that I am his instrument here on Earth. That knowledge helps keep the peace under the sea.”

  “The peace is that fragile? After a hundred years?”

  “That is the nature of peace,” the queen said. “We must fight to keep it, always. But without fighting.”

  “What was the great war even about?”

  The queen grimaced. “Nothing worthwhile, I’m afraid. People have their differences. Different customs, traditions, skin tones . . . Some people hardly need any reason at all to go to war. We have to show them another way. That’s why we invite humans like you to Atlantis. It’s the same reason my court and council is made up of mer-people from across the sea, including Neptune and Abyssal. There is wonder to be found in people who are nothing like us, and much to learn.”

  The queen picked up the goblet of Poseidon’s sacred blood. “This is the real treasure of my kingdom,” she said. “That which brings us together and helps us see that we are all the same. Distance and isolation breed mistrust. Fear. Contempt. Visitors like you help me turn back such foes.” She withdrew a silver wand from her robe. “The Blood of Pos
eidon can change you for a day, a week, a year . . . even permanently, depending on the portion you receive. You shall be granted enough to swim in the fins of a merman for a day. Do you accept the sea god’s gift with an open mind and an open heart?”

  Dean’s eyes swept the chamber, looking for a way to sneak in later. He found one.

  “I do,” he said.

  And I’ll be back for more.

  “I must warn you. Most humans find the transformation disorienting at first. Your new body will cry out for water. You must take to the sea at once. Finneus will be waiting outside to bring you to Lightning Canyon.”

  Dean took a breath. “I’m ready.”

  I think.

  Queen Avenel dipped the wand into the goblet and flicked a smattering of the magic potion at Dean. He flinched as if scalded, but the blood’s touch did not burn. It froze him to the marrow.

  As the Blood of Poseidon traveled through his pores and began mingling with Dean’s own blood, he felt his lungs ice over and shrivel up inside his chest. Everything inside of him was cold, as if a glacier had materialized inside his body.

  The soft glow of the crystal spurs nearby attacked Dean’s eyes like daggers of brilliant light. All of his senses had been amplified. Next came a searing pain on the back of his jawline, like someone was cutting him behind the ears. Then, in an instant, it was over. He felt fine. No more cold. No more pain. Just a thirst. One that went beyond anything he had ever experienced before. He opened his mouth to breathe, but nothing happened. He began to stagger around, suffocating and helpless.

  “To the sea!” said the queen. “To the sea! You need water!”

  Dean turned to the heavy streams racing out of the cavern. He backed up a few paces and then ran hard for the edge of the platform. A primal need was driving him. Instinct. He hit the edge and dove out, arms outstretched. A second later, he plunged into the jet of water and breathed deep as the current pulled him under and away.

  Chapter 21

  Treacherous Depths

  Dean kicked off his boots as he swam, going limp like a fish, bending this way and that as he followed the current’s swirling path. It was a relief to be in the water. He felt at home there, completely at peace. He had hardly noticed his new webbed feet. Dean closed his eyes and let the sea carry him, trusting the tide would take him where he needed to go.

  The flowing water deposited him in a cool, dark stretch of ocean outside the city. As he drifted to a halt, Dean noticed the light of Atlantis’s large glowing mountain range in the distance. He was on the other side of the Magic Mountains.

  Dean waved his arms and kicked his feet in the water, trying to get a sense of up and down. He felt lightheaded and punchy as he adjusted to his new body, with too many thoughts and sensations to process at once. The ocean was cold and dark, but the chill didn’t bother Dean as much as it should have. Was he cold-blooded now? Most fish were, weren’t they?

  Dean swam in circles, trying to remember what it was he had to do. He knew the task was something dangerous, but he wasn’t scared anymore. Not like he had been. He turned his body, flipping around gracefully. His reflexes were already growing sharper, his movements becoming automatic. Dean laughed at the realization that he was breathing underwater and it had taken him this long to notice. His metamorphosis was complete—and completely remarkable.

  Dean felt as if the ocean were a dance partner he had trained with for years. He swam like a fish—even better than a fish, and with no more than a minute of experience as a merman. He was in his element. Nothing could touch him down here unless he wanted it to. Swimming in his new body, he wasn’t worried about sea serpents, giant eels, or anything else in the deep blue sea.

  Ripples in the water alerted Dean to someone nearby. By the time he turned to see who was there, Finneus was already upon him. “Easy now, I’ve got you,” the young lord said, taking hold of him by the shoulders.

  The queen had told him her nephew would be waiting outside to guide him to the canyons, Dean remembered. That was why he was there—to swim with the eels of Lightning Canyon.

  “Is it done?” Finneus asked.

  Dean remembered his mission too, but he was still disoriented from his transformation and struggled to speak while fully submerged.

  “Don’t worry, we can talk here,” Finneus said, gently coaxing him. “Is it done?”

  “No,” Dean gurgled. “Not yet.”

  “Not yet?” Finneus’s mood shifted drastically. “What do you mean, not yet?”

  Dean shook his head, still a bit woozy. “I couldn’t. The queen was right there.”

  “Of course she was there. That was the point!”

  “What?” Dean was getting confused. Had Finneus thought him capable of stealing the Blood of Poseidon right out from under the queen’s nose? “No, I have to go back. That was the plan.”

  “What are you talking about?” Finneus snapped. “You can’t go back!”

  “I can. There’s a way in . . . I can get back in.”

  Finneus’s features tightened with frustration. “You’re not making any sense.” He shook Dean hard. “Snap out of it! Is she dead or not?”

  “What? Who?”

  “The queen! Who else?”

  “Why would she be . . . What are you talking about?”

  “What are you talking about?” Finneus shot back. “What did you think I sent you in there to do?”

  “I went in there to case the place. So later I could steal the Blood of Poseidon for Gentleman Jim. What did you want me to . . .”

  Dean grasped the situation at last. If his thoughts hadn’t been so jumbled by his metamorphosis, he might have realized what Finneus was saying sooner. “You wanted me to kill the queen?” Lyndra was right. Dean was part of a plot against the queen. He just hadn’t known it!

  “This is a fine mess,” Finneus said, his voice bitter. Before Dean had a chance to swim away, Finneus grabbed his right arm and bent it painfully behind his back. Dean cried out as Finneus slipped a rope around his wrist and quickly went to work on the other arm.

  “What are you doing?” Dean demanded.

  “That should be obvious,” Finneus told Dean for the second time in as many days. This time, there was no mistaking his intentions. Within seconds, he had Dean’s upper body bound tightly with both hands pinned behind his back.

  Fear jolted Dean’s brain back to clarity. Finneus was going to kill him. It was the only way for him to clean up his “mess.” Dean felt a tug as Finneus picked up the free end of the rope and swam off with him in tow. Their destination soon became clear. Vibrations in the water carried voices to Dean’s ears. Instinctively, he made a noise of his own. It sped out in their direction and bounced back, allowing him to gauge the distance to whomever was out there. It turned out to be a whole throng of people.

  Dean looked toward the source of the sound. It was dark and the group was far away, but Dean could see them just fine. He was adjusting to his new form more and more with each passing second. Dean’s new eyes could see clear across the ocean floor. A large crowd had gathered at a deep underwater trench, with at least a thousand mermen and mermaids lined up on either side of the gorge. They floated in place, elbow to elbow, waiting for something . . . or someone. Dean’s mouth fell open. It was Lightning Canyon. They were waiting for him.

  He kicked and screamed. “Let me go!”

  “Don’t worry,” Finneus said. “I will.”

  “You can’t!” Dean pleaded. “You can’t throw me in there like this!”

  “Of course I can. You’re a world-class daredevil.”

  Dean cursed and strained against the ropes, fighting to break free. It was no use. “Coward! You won’t get away with this!”

  “Get away with what?” Finneus waved to the crowd as they arrived at the canyon. The spectators cheered. “It’s all part of the show.”

  Chapter 22

  Ride the Lightning

  Finneus swooped over the mouth of the canyon and spun Dean around, tied
up for all to see. He encouraged the crowd to give Dean a round of applause, and it responded with vigor. Dean tried to break free of his restraints. The audience simply assumed his struggling was part of the act, Dean showing off how tightly he’d been bound, and marveled at his bravery.

  “Listen to that,” Finneus told Dean. “You’re a star.”

  Before Dean could call for help, Finneus pushed him backward into the canyon, giving Dean a mock salute as he fell. The last thing Dean saw as he drifted into the abyss was Ronan and Waverly. Their faces were pressed up against the glass window of their underwater pod-ship, high up above him in the crowd. They could tell something was wrong, but they were powerless to do anything about it. Dean was on his own. Just him and the eels.

  He drifted down to the bottom, still struggling to get free. It was no use. He touched down gently, kicking up a cloud of soft, muddy silt on the canyon floor. His human ears would have considered this a silent landing, but his new mer-senses told him the reverberations would be enough to wake every eel in the canyon. He swam upright and braced himself for their arrival.

  They didn’t come right away.

  As he waited, his skin felt the bite of freezing water. Dean couldn’t tell if it was the icy temperature outside the city or the chill running down his spine that made him shiver. If he died down here, no one would ever know what Finneus had done. It would just look like he had bitten off more than he could chew—and the eels had taken the rest.

  Dean twisted his body, squirming to loosen the ropes as he studied his surroundings. Even with his enhanced vision, it was hard to make anything out in water this dark. Lightning Canyon was long, deep, and crooked. Wide in some places and narrow in others, the shadowy gorge zigzagged back and forth for a good five hundred feet. Viewed from up above, the chasm had resembled the electric bolts of its namesake. Down below, the resemblance disappeared. Dean couldn’t see past the winding canyon’s first turn.

  Eyes lit up in the darkness before him, one after another. Dean spotted a pair here, a pair there . . . He counted at least five eels, all around him. Their eyes left eerie light trails in the black water. Dean had a feeling they saw him far better than he could see them.