by Amy Sumida
The tapping piano of Olivia Millerschin's “Hollow” filled the metal room. The song oozed sorrow, providing the perfect ambiance for the moment. It told the story of a woman confronting a lover who had lied to her and let her down. She felt empty and betrayed; all hope lost. And that was how I wanted my great-grandfather and his people to feel. As the magic gathered in my chest and lifted to fill my voice, I focused on the hurt and the loss. I filled the lyrics with the pain of betrayal and the knowledge that nothing would help. That hope was beyond them.
In their ships, the other spellsingers would be singing their chosen songs, music that would attack in several ways. We had coordinated so that we wouldn't be overlapping our strikes. So that we would hit them on many levels, leaving no room for recuperation. I could sense their magic moving through the water beside mine, shooting straight to the palace and the gods who slumbered within. They'd be waking soon. Waking to a nightmare.
I stepped back as Gage started issuing commands to the regiments. I didn't want my voice to drown out his. But I kept my focus as I moved, and I felt the moment my magic hit. The sea seemed to hold its breath, going still for a moment before a shrill sound pierced the water. An alarm. #
Sea gods and goddesses, looking like merfolk with their frilly fishtails, swam out of windows and doors with tridents, barbed nets, and maces in their hands. Nereids and Oceanides— two types of sea nymphs—joined them, wielding Beneather spear guns. There weren't as many as I'd expected, and I was sure that was due to the spellsong that invaded the palace.
Our army swam forward to meet the undersea Beneathers, magic and projectiles launching ahead of them and leaving trails of bubbles behind. On the front line were the water gods, including the true God of Water, Darcraxis. He manipulated the water into a shield for himself and the nearby soldiers while he turned the sea itself into a weapon. Poseidon's troops went tumbling into each other, caught in Darc's powerful whirlpools. The other water gods performed similar maneuvers, though not as impressively as my husband.
As Poseidon's sea soldiers were struck down like bowling pins or whirled away like fallen leaves, our army advanced. Magic lit the ocean in blasts and vibrated through the water. The palace buckled but held. The delicate gardens before it were not so fortunate. Coral that had grown there for centuries exploded and tore through graceful beds of kelp like shrapnel. My heart hurt to see the destruction, but I kept singing. Dead puppies and kittens, Elaria. Dead babies. It can't happen again.
Beneathers transformed into sharks, giant squid, dolphins, seals, walruses, and even eels. An underwater menagerie zipped around the sea soldiers, looking beautiful as they struck. Every attack seemed like a dance down there. Well, perhaps not every attack. Certain races—such as the Trolls, Centaurs, and Manticores—were unwieldy underwater. They were almost laughable until they managed to catch a victim. Then they weren't so funny. Oh, and let's not forget the Dragons. The Ryū had shifted as soon as they exited their vessels, becoming enormous, sinuous creatures with vibrantly colored scales and trailing whiskers that glowed and crackled with magic. They darted through the battle, snatching up victims and dispatching them with deadly efficiency.
Behind the water gods came our air-breathing soldiers. Gods and monsters in wet suits, their snarling faces showed clearly through their wide, clear masks. They moved slower than those accustomed to being beneath the surface, but when they arrived on the scene, they did their fair share of damage. Swords were too unwieldy underwater so most used daggers or claws to tear and slash. Last but not least, music incapacitated our enemies, dropping them randomly and in multiple ways; Poseidon's troops clawed at their throats, attacked their fellow soldiers, or just went passed out and hung limp in the water. Our soldiers were making a strong showing, but it wasn't an easy win. Far from it.
The water put several beneathers at a disadvantage for more reasons than the physical—certain magical attacks simply could not be deployed down there—and this was Poseidon's playing field; his troops had the home advantage. Tritons, nymphs, monsters, and even Greek gods of the land joined the initial wave of sea soldiers, most zipping adroitly around our people and dodging our attacks with galling ease. I was forced to concentrate on individual soldiers or creatures now that Poseidon's troops were out of the palace and engaged with ours; the magic wouldn't have known who to target if I hadn't. That alone was a major handicap that I was certain my fellow spellsingers were dealing with too but then there were the hidden traps the undersea army began to deploy.
Nets exploded from clumps of coral, spears launched from the seabed, and magical bombs shot from rock formations to hit unsuspecting beneathers. Enormous octopus-monsters snatched shark-shifters out of the battle and bound them in tentacles, drawing them like wriggling guppies to their beaks. Manta rays sizzling with magic glided gracefully above, releasing toxic clouds. Tritons aimed their tridents at beneather heads, taking out helmets and forcing our soldiers to rely on their breathing spells. It was chaos, as most battles are, but despite our handicaps and their cunning, our side appeared to be winning.
Until Poseidon appeared.
Poseidon swam out of the palace doors and stopped, lifting upright to observe the mayhem. Before him, clouds of blood bloomed as his people died, but he didn't seem disturbed by the carnage. In fact, I was more upset about the dying sea folk than he appeared to be. Instead of showing concern, he coolly analyzed the battle then focused on the front line. An unspoken message seemed to be relayed and all of Poseidon's soldiers shot away from the battlefield, leaving our forces scrambling in wary confusion.
I expected my great-grandfather to blast us with water in a similar fashion to Darc's attack. Darcraxis must have expected this as well because he rushed forward to counter Poseidon's magic. As Poseidon lifted his hands, so did Darc. Water churned between them, spreading out to shield our troops.
But when Poseidon lifted his hands, palms up, the water didn't move for him. Instead, the ocean floor cracked. A sound like thunder rocked through the sea. Sand exploded, billowing up to hide Poseidon from view. I stuttered in surprise, losing my song as rock and soil rolled up through the sandy shield. The water thrummed as the seabed broke into shards and undulated out like a wave coming to shore. I had only a second to glimpse our soldiers rolling back with the debris—several disappearing under massive boulders—before our ship was lifted and turned over on itself.
Gage launched himself at me as I fell, cradling me against his chest and bending his head over mine. We hit the ceiling hard then rolled and crashed into a wall. Gage grunted as we continued to be bashed about the cabin while the vessel went tumbling like a flipped coin. Alarms beeped stridently but then abruptly stopped. Lights flashed and metal groaned as we settled. I lifted my head and looked around.
We had landed upright. A small blessing. The ship was singing its swan song with wailing creaks and warbling sirens. The smell of burning wires seeped through the air ducts on thin lines of smoke. Beyond the glass of the viewing port, the sea was beige and brown, churning with sand and bedrock. I looked down at Gage, my hands sliding over his face gently.
“Gage?”
“I'm fine. We need to get our masks on,” Gage said urgently as he helped me to my feet.
“He's right,” the pilot gasped. “The ship is compromised. Get outside and start swimming back to shore. I don't know how long the respirators will last in this sludge and you definitely can't go breathing it; it would be like trying to inhale thick smoke.” He waved his hand at the muck outside. “We need to retreat.”
“After one strike?” I asked in shock. “Surely we can—”
“Poseidon was supposed to be weakened,” Gage reminded me. “If this is him at his weakest, we're screwed, Elaria. Now, get your mask on!”
Gage shoved my mask at me and waited for me to start putting it on before he dealt with his. When we were securely in our suits, the pilot led us to the airlock. Along the way, Gage flipped on his helmet's com device and tried to contact our troops. I flicked mine on as w
ell but just listened; I didn't want to talk over Gage.
“Damage report!” Gage's voice came through my speaker and echoed beside me. “Report! Who's still alive?!”
We stepped into the small room with the airlock, and our pilot hit a panel to close the door behind us. Water began to seep in but before the room was full, something tore the hull away. The pressure shot us out of the ship like champagne from a shaken bottle. I surged forward, but my impetus was abruptly halted by a solid chest.
Gage's roar echoed through my speaker then went abruptly silent.
“Gage!” I shouted. “Gage!”
Strong arms wrapped around me, holding me in a vise while I struggled to get back to my griffin. Then I was shooting through the water, a veil of sand and soil hiding my savior's face from me as it concealed us from everyone else. I assumed it was one of my men and clung to him as he took me to safety. It was probably Darc, only he could move us so rapidly through the water.
“Darc, is that you?” I asked.
I reached up and felt a bare face, no mask. Darc must have lost it during the battle. That's why he couldn't hear me. But wait, his jawline felt wrong.
It's not Darcraxis! Kyanite shouted.
That's your dear ol' grandpa, girl! RS added. Sing something! Hit him! Scratch his eyes out. I don't care what, just pick one!
Poseidon had me? Why was he trying to save me? Why not kill me in the chaos? My thoughts were too jumbled to come up with a song. I couldn't think straight. All I could think about was that Griffin roar cut short and how many others we may have lost in that explosion. Were my lovers still alive?
“Elaria!” Torin's voice came through my com unit. I was about to reply when he went on, “Banning! Fuck! Come on, Bann, don't do this.”
“Banning!” I screamed.
“Elaria?” Torin asked. “Where are you?”
“Poseidon has me!”
Focus! RS shouted. Nothing will matter if you're dead. Now, sing!
“Elaria!” Slate roared. “I'm coming for you, baby. Hold on! I'm close. I—”
“Slate!” I shrieked.
“Slate, where are you?” Darc demanded. “Slate!”
The com unit crackled and went abruptly silent. My heart fell into my stomach, burning in the acid there.
Sing, my love. Please! Kyanite begged. Your men will survive but your life is in jeopardy. You need to save yourself!
The music started so softly that I didn't hear it at first, perhaps because my panicked breaths were blasting in the confines of the helmet, but then it lifted and the sound of a sad piano filled my ears. I took a deep, calming breath and focused. I had to save myself before I could help them. I closed my eyes and let the magic take me.
Kyanite had chosen for me and, as usual, he had done well. “Blood Filled Tears” by Maisy Kay was a song about the torment of love. About its brutality and how it can leave you looking at the world differently. I wasn't after those emotions though; I needed the deadly words. My magic rose and within the air-filled mask, I didn't even have to throw my voice. I sang softly, gently twining the lyrics into a subtle attack.
Poseidon twitched as the music expanded into the water between us and the magic seeped into him. He growled, a sound I'd never heard him make before, and his grip tightened, constricting my chest. I sang on, pushing the words out breathlessly as I fought his hold. Were those claws pressing into my side? He rolled us furiously, and we sped faster. Then the water cleared, and I saw his face.
A crimson film coated Poseidon's eyes but the blood was quickly washed away by the water. It wasn't enough of a hindrance to stop him. So, I upped the pain. I focused on blinding him with blood and crippling him with heartache. My grandfather snarled, his face twisting into ferocious lines as his bloody stare shifted to me. Our momentum slowed, and we came to a stop.
One of Poseidon's hands went to my throat and squeezed. He gripped me directly above the choker Torin had made, ironically using it to choke me. The metal bit my tender skin and the stones compressed my airway. I fought him, but he was far stronger than I. Stronger than I remembered. I needed to use something more than music to stop him. I called upon Light since Fire would likely mean fighting an uphill battle underwater. My skin began to glow as I focused my magic on my grandfather. Then I realized that Poseidon wasn't choking me anymore, merely holding me still. He narrowed his eyes at me and mine widened. There was that look again; the one that made my blood run cold. At this distance I was able to see why it frightened me so much; within it lay the promise of my death.
My love! Kyanite shrieked.
Light brightened between us, causing Poseidon to squint, but before my magic could do its work, it started to drain away. I focused on it harder, but it continued to slide out of my mental grip like sand through spread fingers. I recognized this feeling but it wasn't possible; Poseidon didn't have the magic of grounding. No Beneather did. Yet that was exactly what was happening. Poseidon grinned at me maliciously as his hands slid to the back of my neck, where the clasp of my necklace was. I felt the stones moving over my throat like a snake, tightening slightly. What the hell was going on?
“What did you do?!” I shouted at my grandfather, but he only smiled wider.
Elaria, he's pushing us away! RS screamed.
My love, be strong! We will find—
I flailed and fought Poseidon but my magic continued to disappear until there was nothing left. No Light, no Fire, no Spellsong, no Kyanite, and no Rooster Spell. Poseidon started swimming again, using the water to propel us forward... away from the palace. I stared through the dark water, shivering with terror as my great-grandfather took me deeper into the North Atlantic Ocean and further away from the ones I loved. I would have counted him among their number once. Not anymore.
Chapter Seventeen
Poseidon finally slowed, and I lifted my face to see a wall of rock rising from the ocean floor at a sharp angle. As we drew closer, I realized that it was more than an underwater mountain. An entrance had been carved in the base, set with a door of the same stone. The subtle doorway could hardly be seen until we drew closer; its frame mimicked the slopes of the mountain. I only noticed it because the door hung open and light streamed out. If this was a hidden stronghold as I suspected, this was its only access point; no other doors or windows were evident on the rock face.
A large group of Tritons stood guard before the front door, but they left their post when they spotted us. Although they nodded respectfully to Poseidon as they approached, they didn't stop to speak to us but continued past. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a huge group of monsters and gods swimming up behind us; the survivors of our attack. Their numbers had been less than I'd expected, but I'd thought that was due to our songs. I'd assumed that the other spellsingers and I had culled the troops before they'd even emerged, but now I realized that it had only been a single regiment defending the palace... that palace. This one—this secret fortress of stone that I'd never seen before—must be where my great-grandfather had garrisoned the rest of his army.
It had been a trap.
Poseidon had lured us to the old palace, knowing that we couldn't let his attack on America stand without retribution. Then he pulled his earthquake stunt and used the chaos to abduct me. And I wasn't the only one taken. Amid the returning troops were numerous Greek gods, shackled securely. We had just handed him all of the people he'd been trying to capture; all of the gods he wanted to forcefully recruit. Just served them up on a silver sea platter. And he hadn't even bothered to bring his entire army to collect them. The tidal wave made sense now. It wasn't an attack on America, it was a ploy to get the Beneath to attack him.
Among the taken were Aegaeon, the Greek God of Violent Sea Storms, Potamoi, several Naiads, and Triteia—Triton's daughter who had sided with us instead of her father and grandfather. I noted her because Triton swam out of the palace to collect her himself. He grabbed the chains holding Triteia's shackles together and dragged her off through that imposing doorway
like a naughty child, his fishtail powerfully pumping while hers hung limply. The flow of their movement undulated her trailing fins like silk in a breeze.
Poseidon waved the soldiers and their prisoners ahead of us, watching them carefully. When the last of the troops were inside, we followed them, Poseidon closing the massive door behind us with a wave of his hand. A thick metal bar slid down into brackets, locking the door securely, and my stomach clenched in dread. Powerless, trapped, and cut off from my men; this was so much worse than being silenced.
The corridor Poseidon took me down was lined with warriors, all of them treading water upright, at attention. Most were familiar to me; if I didn't know them by name, I knew their faces. None of them met my eye, only stared ahead blankly, although I did note an uncomfortable muscle tick in a few faces. We passed hallways that branched off ours, but Poseidon kept swimming forward. The walls were bare rock, unadorned beyond cage sconces that held glowing orbs of light, and there were no furnishings within any of the rooms we passed. Only weapons. Racks of spears and tridents stood beside cabinets that doubtless held smaller blades or perhaps spear guns. They were prepared for war, which meant that they expected to fight again. This was only the beginning.