by Lucia Ashta
I scoured the ocean floor contained within walls of reef. There were the large shells, out of the way, and in the middle of them, an open space that might be used for gatherings, and at the far end of it, a throne.
“Do you see that?” I spoke so softly that my voice was little more than a flutter on a water current.
Ahead of me, Grand-mère nodded. So they had a queen here too—or perhaps a king. I couldn’t decide how that affected our predicament, if it did at all. Maybe we could ask for some kind of diplomatic immunity, as was afforded the ambassadors of foreign nations. We could be ambassadors for dry land, seeking good will of all people beneath the waters.
Was it likely? I had no idea, but it was something, and when I had so little to grasp onto that offered me hope, I’d take anything—anything at all.
“There, look!” Mordecai said, the sound of his voice little more than a bubble in the water before me, but I followed his pointing hand.
There they were, in an area darker than the rest, and I pointed them out for Grand-mère. I realized they must’ve dispersed the glowing orbs to afford them some shadow. Even though this way Mirvela, the Count, Anna, and Carlton were harder to spot, the dark area wasn’t, and it must be how Mordecai had found them.
They weren’t alone. I counted three other merpeople with them, two males and one female. The men were formidable, all muscle and brawn, long hair floating behind them, making even their heads look larger than life. One had a tail of a magnificent deep orange and the other a deep magenta. While Randolph’s scales were dark so he could disappear, everything about these mermen suggested they were meant to be seen—and appreciated. I was fascinated and I could’ve spent the night staring at them, despite their current company.
But even as alluring as the mermen were, they shrank away from my gaze when it landed on the merwoman next to them. Clearly, she was their queen, and it didn’t take the trident she gripped in her hand for me to realize it. I’d thought Mirvela was beautiful, but I determined that no matter how striking she might be, the intentions she carried within cast a shadow across her physical beauty.
The woman who stood beside her seemed as if she glowed from within. Her creamy skin was unblemished and smooth, which was apparent even from this distance. As if her skin scarcely managed to contain her inner light, the edges of her body blurred—only a little, just enough to suggest she was barely a part of this world. Her presence altered the surrounding waters, injecting them with a light that made up for Mirvela’s darkness.
At this distance, her hair had an indistinct color, neither blonde nor brown nor golden, as if it were a constant play of light. It trailed behind her in the water, and her tail outshone even Mirvela’s startling turquoise. Her body was supple and it ended in a tail that sparkled a different color across each of its multiple scales. Even amidst the relative shadows, light found its way to her, reflecting off her tail in rich violet and fuchsia hues, and every tonality in between.
Instantly, I felt drawn to her, like I wanted to be her friend and stay with her forever. Like I wanted to study her every feature and allow myself to be mesmerized by her beauty. If this was an enchantment, then it was an effective one, because despite Anna and Carlton’s presence near her, and a terrifying and striking Mirvela and an undead count, all I could see was her. I felt her.
And apparently she felt me too.
She turned her head my way with movements like rippling silk. Even across shadows and light, distance and water, she met my stare.
Chapter 13
I froze, my conscious mind battling with my heart. My mind told me that we’d been discovered and were in immediate danger. I should react with alarm and move to take immediate defensive action.
But my heart interpreted her pinkish violet gaze as the soothing whispers of a friend, or perhaps a mother, one quite different from the one I’d had.
“She’s so beautiful,” Grand-mère said, snapping me out of the trance the merqueen’s gaze held me in. I realized that within that heady stare, she held Grand-mère too.
“We need to move,” Mordecai said, making it clear he wasn’t feeling what we were. “She’s spotted us.”
Indeed she had, but we were safe with her, weren’t we? We had to be. My heart didn’t normally lie.
Whatever the merqueen’s true intentions, and regardless of whether or not I might be right about her, her attentions brought those of another. And this merqueen was not our friend.
Mirvela took only a moment to take in the situation. Her turquoise eyes sharpened, and she moved to clutch Carlton in her hand again. Then she turned toward Count Washur.
She obviously told him we were there, because his head snapped around so fast I hoped he might lose it and spare us a load of trouble—or at least half of it. Without moving his head from our direction, he reached out to grip Anna.
Merwitch and undead sorcerer made the act of holding onto another person appear dangerous. Their threats didn’t need a voice, their actions did enough of the talking.
The two mermen with the group looked our way too, but the gesture softened into guarded curiosity, although they moved closer to their queen, positioning themselves on either side of her. Their allegiances were clear. They were loyal to their queen, not to Mirvela, and I hoped that would be enough to convince them to stay out of it, for their entire village to allow us to do what we needed to do without any threat to them.
“No point in waiting here anymore,” Mordecai said, speaking in his normal voice. “Let’s just hope none of the others wake up.”
Grand-mère didn’t say anything for a long time. I couldn’t tell what she was doing as she maintained her stare. Perhaps she was gathering her courage as I was trying to with limited success. Or even better, maybe she was already working her magic on the merpeople. But I had no way of knowing if I’d notice her magic when she cast it or not. All magic beside my own was, from my understanding, cast through spells, but I rarely noticed when Mordecai did his casting, nor did I spot it with Grand-mère either unless she was talking with an animal.
Finally she bent over Randolph and spoke to him, where if he’d been human, he’d have an ear. “You can turn your light back on, darling. We’ve been seen.”
Randolph’s telescopic eyeball began to emit light again. I noticed Mirvela tense, and I wondered at it. Was this evidence of Grand-mère’s magic? Did Mirvela fear it? I hoped this might be the case, because I’d never seen Mirvela afraid of anything. She kept the company of the most terrible sorcerer there was in the last several centuries.
“Take us to them quietly. We don’t want to wake the merpeople who slumber in their shells.”
I thought it humorous that she’d tell the silent fish, who neither spoke in a way I could hear nor did much to disturb the water, to be quiet. He glided forward with the three of us upon him with a grace far beyond that suggested by his monstrous features.
Randolph closed the distance between us and the dais far too quickly for my nerves. I wanted to close my eyes and block out my reality, the one that had somehow landed me in this incongruous situation upon an ocean floor, where no human supposedly belonged, much less a lady of the aristocracy, bred for things far less spectacular than this.
Yet here I was, in a place I never predicted I’d be, the backup plan for two seasoned magicians. Since leaving Norland, I’d discovered I froze when in immediate danger of death or dismemberment—definitely not the time to allow fear to paralyze me.
I suspected I’d arrive at another situation that would test my resolve and ability to operate under such extreme pressure, even though I wished I didn’t. I was the resource my friends were counting on should their experience, far greater than mine, fail. The terror of that churned in my stomach, and I was grateful I hadn’t eaten recently.
Randolph came to a stop in front of the group of merpeople, sorcerers, and hostages, positioning himself far enough away from them, and in the middle, so he could make a clear retreat if he had to—and if they let him.
The fish had more tactical know-how than I.
“Look who’s here,” Count Washur said. Even underwater his voice chilled my blood with its taunting cruelty, a promise of all the pain he intended to inflict. “Wench, your power has grown since I last saw you. The time has arrived for me to claim you. How kind of you to deliver yourself and spare me the trouble, and you even brought the flailing old wizard with you. I’ll take him too and fuel my magic. I’ll be more powerful than ever before... with the magic of two brothers. Did you know, old fool, that when I take your soul your hold on my magic will disappear?”
“You can’t take anyone’s soul unless they give it to you freely, you said so yourself.” I was shocked to realize this was said in my voice. I’d spoken before thinking it would be unwise to draw any more unwanted attention.
Something unpleasant rippled across the Count’s face. He pulled thin lips tight in displeasure and bared his teeth. “I can take anyone’s soul that I wish. No one can stop me. The soul will only add more years to my life if it’s given willingly. But I can take the soul to kill no matter what.”
I swallowed thickly. He sounded as if he relished the prospect, and I desperately wanted to ask what would happen to the soul once he took it. If there was such a thing as the afterlife, was this soul forever denied it? Or only so long as Count Washur lived? I didn’t understand the unnatural process of extending life by taking it from others and it was likely better that I didn’t. Already I was having trouble taking easy breaths without considering that I might end up festering inside the Count for an eternity, or however long he might manage to live. He was mean enough to live forever.
“And who is this?” he continued. “Your... mother?”
I didn’t answer. My heart skipped several beats, causing a physical pain in my chest. Washur examined Grand-mère while I battled not to say anything, not to scream at him to stop defiling her with his putrid gaze.
But Grand-mère was capable of speaking up for herself. “All you need to know about me is that I’m going to stop you from hurting any more people.”
The merqueen shifted her gaze from me to Washur, and did it sharply. The two mermen that flanked her followed her lead and studied the undead sorcerer too.
Washur and Mirvela appeared oblivious.
Grand-mère said, “You’ve caused enough harm to cover all of your many lifetimes. Hand over your captives, and we’ll leave without threat.”
She hadn’t wasted any time in negotiating Anna and Carlton’s release.
Except that Washur wasn’t negotiating. “We won’t release them. They’re ours.”
Now I was sure of it. The merqueen bristled at his words and the mermen to either side of her moved closer to her when she did.
Grand-mère turned her attention to Mirvela, ignoring the Count’s countenance, clearly intent on intimidating her. I was so proud of her right then. She was defending those that needing defending, and she was doing it with resolve, courage, and style—she wasn’t taking any of Washur’s nonsense. She sat atop Randolph with a straight back, a powerful witch atop her magical steed; it mattered none that Randolph was unlike any magical steed ever seen before.
“And you?” Grand-mère said. “Will you hand over your captives to us? We offer you the same terms as we did... him.” She looked as if she’d considered saying Count Washur’s name, but then couldn’t stomach it. “Release Anna and Carlton to us, and we’ll leave here in peace.”
Mirvela pulled Carlton closer to her and said just one word. “No.”
Carlton looked crestfallen, but to his great credit, he didn’t look afraid. Knowing what I did of Carlton, he was probably lamenting that we were putting ourselves in danger to rescue him. Grand-mère had offered a non-violent alternative.
But neither of these dark sorcerers wanted it. They dealt in violence and death, and stealth and vicious intentions.
“Then you understand that we’ll do whatever it takes to release these innocents?”
Count Washur spoke for Mirvela, “Whatever you try to do won’t be enough to free them. But go ahead. We’re happy to take your souls and your magic. I’m sure this beautiful queen at my side, who possesses so much power of her own, is ready for it.”
Mirvela didn’t seem bothered that he should speak for her or call her a queen at his side.
Mordecai descended from Randolph behind me and moved to stand beside the fish, hovering just above the ocean floor to his left. I decided to do the same and moved to his right. It was clear that Washur and Mirvela weren’t going to make this easy. This would draw into a skirmish, so our mobility shouldn’t be limited to Randolph’s movements, especially when neither one of us could control them.
Grand-mère ignored Washur and instead moved to speak to the merqueen, whose light shone even brighter at this close proximity, behind the two dark sorcerers and their hostages. “And you, Your Majesty, are you—”
But Grand-mère never managed to complete her respectful inquiry.
Washur pulled his hands off to one side, lips moving quickly, and hurled something at us. Before I could make out what it was, it covered the distance.
Chapter 14
I watched the ball of magic progress toward us. It wasn’t yet clear who Washur’s target was. If I was his aim, he’d have me. I hovered in the water, frozen, unable to get my wits to do anything about it—if there even was anything to do to stop the dark magic that hurtled our way. The water between us did nothing to obstruct its trajectory.
It was definitely directed at me! There were three seconds, four at most, before the ball of dark magic would collide with my chest. Count Washur meant to take me out before anyone else.
In a daze, I watched Carlton struggle to break free from Mirvela’s grasp. He squirmed and wriggled violently, but managed to escape.
Everything slowed down around me, as if I could somehow affect time instead of being a victim to its inevitability.
Mirvela lunged for Carlton, but she couldn’t reach him in time to stop him.
Mordecai moved in front of me. I realized he meant to sacrifice his life to spare mine.
The horror of his intended sacrifice finally spurred me to action. I could move again, respond to Count Washur’s threat and do something about it. Only I had no idea what to do. The most experienced magician amongst my friends was offering himself as a human shield as if even he couldn’t think of anything else to do in time to save me.
The magic was moving too fast and Count Washur was too formidable an opponent.
I shifted to one side and then the other but in the end did nothing in my defense. I’d be forced to watch Mordecai die right in front of my eyes.
Because Count Washur was the kind of man who’d attack without warning. We knew he didn’t have honor. Why hadn’t we anticipated that he might attack us—kill us—before we realized the conflict had escalated to that level?
Every other encounter with the dark magician had included some kind of veneer of decorum, however artificial and fake. The rules of the nobility were firm. There was a required etiquette for everything, from how to greet acquaintances in the street to how to kill them. There were rules for duels, and I’d always assumed Count Washur would adhere to them—at least a little bit—especially with so many around to judge his actions.
But Washur turned out to be a coward, who lashed out at his opponents when they didn’t expect it so he could gain an advantage.
And Mordecai’s sense of honor and duty would be the death of him. Marcelo hadn’t allowed Mordecai to kill Washur in Bundry because the way of it wouldn’t have been honorable. Now Marcelo would lose the man who was more of a father to him than his own.
The ball of dark magic was beautiful. Even though it was an instrument of death, I noticed its endless swirl of color, all gray tones that sparked with the magic they contained. It was as if Washur had pulled a cloud down from the skies, rolled it into a tight, compressed ball, and infused it with death.
My eyes latched onto it and didn’
t let go. I’d see it through to its ghastly, violent end. I’d watch the ball impact against Mordecai, who pulled his shoulders back in resolve and courage. Better than me, he knew what would happen once the ball of dark magic collided with his beating, pumping heart.
Time was out before we’d even started. It was the story of my life since meeting Marcelo, and now I’d have to tell him that Mordecai joined Albacus in death.
I prepared myself for the impact just as everyone else, all in different states of suspended animation, waited for the inevitable.
All but the one I’d lost sight of in my horror at what Mordecai intended to do.
The ball had almost managed to reach Mordecai, to spin into his chest, when Carlton intercepted it. His body was streamlined into a straight line, diving, reaching, extending. He kicked and swung his arms in a severe motion meant to accomplish what he intended to achieve. The man who’d been a butler to the Castle of Bundry since Marcelo was a boy moved with an agility far beyond his age.
And he managed to position himself in front of Mordecai just in time. Any later, even a fraction of a second, and it would’ve been too late.
The ball of dark magic collided with Carlton’s determined face.
Instead of an explosion, there was a sudden, shocking quiet, in which none of the rest of us moved.
The swirling ball of darkness disappeared into Carlton’s body, which absorbed it and every speck of its magic fully.
The life, which had been so evident in Carlton a second before, vanished. His arms and legs no longer pumped, his face lost its determination.
He drifted toward the ocean floor in his butler’s uniform, which appeared elegant regardless of our location. He’d managed to wedge himself between Mordecai and the ball even with the disadvantage of water-logged clothing.
That’s the kind of man Carlton was.
Now he was no more.
No one else moved while his body completed its drop to the sandy bottom.