Waterfire Saga (4 Book Series)

by Jennifer Donnelly

  All eyes turned to Lucia as she moved toward the altar. Hushed expressions of awe and admiration rose.

  She was stunning in her dress made from sliver-thin slices of emerald stitched onto a sheath of dark green sea silk. The jewels caught the moonlight and held it. Lucia’s every movement made the entire gown shimmer. She wore her midnight-black hair long and flowing, and flashed a triumphant smile.

  Mahdi arranged his face into an expression of happiness and beamed at his bride. Lucia drew nearer. She was halfway down the aisle now. To Mahdi, she seemed like a specter gliding toward him, a harbinger of his death.

  She arrived at the altar and swam to Mahdi’s side.

  The priestess directed the bride and bridegroom to face each other. “Deeply beloved,” she began, “we are gathered here today…”

  Mahdi barely heard her. He was going through the motions. Waiting for his chance. It would be over soon. All he wanted was to rid the world of the evil in this room.

  When Lucia raised her right hand, he raised his. The priestess bound them together by winding a cord of kelp around their wrists.

  The songcasters began to chant. Their voices rose, loud and strong, reverberating through the stones of the ancient temple, sounding throughout the palace.

  The priestess smiled. “And now for the vows of matrimony,” she said.

  “ALÍTHEIA, PLEASE listen to me,” a terrified Sera begged, eyeing the spider’s fearsome fangs.

  “Why ssshould I lisssten?”

  “No reason. None at all,” Sera admitted. “You’ve defended Miromara, but Miromara hasn’t defended you. That stops. Right now. With me.”

  The spider considered her words.

  “Alítheia, you’re just like those souls,” Sera said. “The ones Orfeo snatched and bound to create his monster.”

  The spider narrowed all eight of her eyes. “Alítheia is Alítheia,” she said sullenly. “Ssshe isss like nothing elssse.”

  “You’re angry, just like they are. And scared. And trapped. And you want your freedom, just like those souls do,” Sera said. “Set us free, Alítheia, and I swear by Neria that I’ll set you free.”

  The spider said nothing. She continued to advance on Sera, her eyes glittering hungrily. She raised a curved bronze claw and extended it toward Sera. One swipe of that fearsome hook, and Sera was dead.

  Fossegrim called to the spider, begging her to stop, to not hurt Sera, but Alítheia seemed to not even hear him.

  She’s going to kill me. Please make it quick, Sera prayed.

  But instead of thrusting the lethal claw into her, Alítheia pressed it to the side of Sera’s face. Sera bit back a cry of pain as the cold, sharp metal bit into her skin. An instant later, her blood swirled through the water like crimson smoke.

  The spider nosed at the blood, then tasted it. “You ssspeak the truth, mermaid. The blood of Merrow runsss through your veinsss.”

  “Help me get out of here, Alítheia,” Sera said, encouraged. “Help me fight for the realm you’ve faithfully protected. If I win my battle, that realm will finally protect you. Merrow kept you in the dark. She kept all of us in the dark. She shouldn’t have. Help me, and I’ll get you out of this den and give you a place in the light, right by my side.”

  The spider drew herself up. She raised her claw once more, then sliced it down through the water. Sera had no idea, in that instant, if she would live or die.

  The claw caught the filaments of the cocoon that held Sera and ripped through them. They fell away and sank to the bottom of the cave.

  “Thank you, Alítheia,” she said, weak with relief. There was a smooth spot on the spider’s face, right above her fangs. Sera swam to her and kissed her there. The anarachna touched a claw to the spot wonderingly, and blinked her many eyes.

  “Pardon me, but if you wouldn’t mind…”

  That was Fossegrim. Alítheia cut him loose, too. The two mer were free, but they still had iron collars around their necks that prevented them from songcasting. Alítheia quickly solved that problem. She spat a bit of venom onto the cave’s floor, dripped a claw in it, then touched it to the hasp of the lock on Sera’s collar. It ate into the iron. The hasp broke apart, and the lock fell away. Sera pulled the collar off, grateful to be rid of it.

  When Fossegrim had also shed his collar, Sera said, “Now all we have to do is—”

  Her words were cut off by the sound of music. She could tell that Alítheia and Fossegrim heard it, too. It was carrying out of Neria’s temple, drifting over the kolisseo, and down into Alítheia’s den. The music was faint, but Sera could still make out some of the lyrics.

  …come together now…To witness two souls make their vows…

  Terror seized her. “No,” she whispered. “Great, Neria, no!”

  “What is it, Serafina?” Fossegrim asked.

  “The wedding ceremony…it’s happening!” she cried. “Mahdi and Lucia, they’re getting married. He’s dead.”

  Sera was a thousand times more frightened for Mahdi than she’d been for herself. Lucia thought Alítheia was a monster, but she was the real monster, and Mahdi was in her clutches.

  “Dead, child? Why? He wanted this. He betrayed his own realm for it,” Fossegrim said.

  “No, he was only pretending,” Sera said frantically. “He’s been working for our side all along. And he Promised himself to me. Lucia thinks I’m dead, but I’m not. She probably told Mahdi that I was. When he sings his vows, they’ll fall flat and—”

  “Everyone in the temple will know the truth,” Fossegrim finished. “That is not good. Not good at all.”

  “We’ve got to help him,” Sera said, desperation in her voice. She turned back to the spider. “Alítheia, is there a way out of here?”

  “For you, yesss. Follow me,” the anarachna said.

  MAHDI FLOATED, smiling serenely as the songcasters chanted. Anyone looking at him would have seen a merman dazed by love, gazing at his bride. But all the while, Mahdi’s brain was working feverishly, calculating how long he had before the ceremony ended, before his new father-in-law swam up to congratulate him. Before it was over. For Vallerio and Traho. For him.

  The chorus of songcasters, their voices soaring now, chanted of Miromara’s proud history, and of the solemn vows about to be taken. They reminded Lucia of her duty to produce a daughter for the realm, and then they were silent. Their part in the ceremony was over.

  It was Mahdi’s and Lucia’s turn.

  “Your Graces, if you please,” the priestess said, leading them in their vows.

  Deeply beloved, tonight we sing,

  Of this couple’s final promising

  For life, these vows will bind you both,

  Think hard, before you plight your troth.

  For the goddess Neria demands nothing less

  That one or both will now confess,

  If vows to another were made in the past,

  For if so, new vows cannot be cast.

  Mahdi took a deep breath. Lucia, smiling radiantly, did the same. Looking at each other, they began to sing the vows that would unite them forever.

  Freely I declare my love,

  In the magical light of the moon above.

  My heart is my own, to keep or to give,

  I pledge it to you, for as long as I live.

  Lucia’s voice, clear and beguiling, rose into the water. But instead of joining hers in perfect harmony, Mahdi’s voice fell flat.

  He stopped singing, confused. He looked around self-consciously; his hand went to his throat.

  Lucia’s eyes widened. In the chapel pews, guests turned to one other, exchanging looks or whispering behind their hands.

  Mahdi coughed and tried again, but his song was tuneless, and his voice as harsh as a gull’s. How can this be happening? he wondered wildly. It shouldn’t be. It couldn’t be. Not unless…

  “Sera’s alive,” he whispered.

  Lucia heard him. Her smile disappeared. “She’s not. There’s no chance she survived, trust me
.”

  Vallerio, Portia, and the rest of the wedding guests were too far away to hear what Lucia and Mahdi were saying.

  “What’s wrong?” Vallerio called out. “Why aren’t you singing your vows?”

  Mahdi barely heard him. Happiness flooded his heart. “She’s alive. Thank the gods!”

  “Mahdi, you don’t mean that,” Lucia said, as if speaking to a small child. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Sera enchanted you. You only think you’re in love with her.”

  Mahdi ripped the cord off their hands. He backed away from her. “Sera didn’t enchant me. I Promised myself to her freely and willingly.”

  “That’s not true!” Lucia said, her eyes flashing with anger.

  As Mahdi looked into those eyes, his happiness shattered and fear took its place—fear for Sera. Lucia had been shocked to learn that she was alive, which can only mean that she’d left her for dead somewhere. He unbuttoned his jacket so he could get to his gun.

  “Where is she, Lucia? Tell me!” Mahdi demanded. “What did you do with her?”

  “Mahdi, stop it,” Lucia begged. “Please.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Vallerio thundered.

  His voice brought Mahdi up short. Mahdi reached for his gun, remembering what he’d come here to do, but instead of pulling the weapon from its holster, he stopped. The minute he fired on Vallerio, he was a dead man himself. And then who would help Sera?

  He had to tell the guests the truth. Some of them might be loyal to Sera. They might help her.

  “Serafina’s alive! The true regina of Miromara is alive!” he shouted. “Vallerio killed her parents, but he didn’t kill her! Lucia imprisoned her. Find her! Save her!”

  Some of the wedding guests gasped. Other’s pressed hands to their chests. “Is this true?” a merman demanded.

  “Serafina’s alive? Where is she?” a mermaid cried.

  “Mahdi, please!” Lucia begged. “You’re ruining everything. I can’t save you, we can’t be married, if you don’t stop saying these things.”

  Mahdi shook his head. He couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. “Don’t you get it? I’d rather die than marry you.”

  Lucia’s face changed in an instant. Hatred darkened her features. “Then you will!” she hissed.

  “Lucia, what in the gods’ names is going on?” Vallerio shouted, approaching the altar.

  Lucia backed away from Mahdi. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “He’s a traitor!” she shouted loudly. “He’s spying for the Black Fins! Seize him!”

  Traho fumbled for his gun. Mahdi grabbed for his own weapon. Traho aimed first. Mahdi braced for the shot, for the searing pain of a spear ripping into his flesh, but it never came.

  Instead, there was a blinding flash of light, and then a deafening explosion. Mahdi clapped his hands over his ears. The walls of the ancient temple shook. The windows imploded. There was a roar from above, the sound of something heavy giving way. Mahdi looked up.

  The last thing he saw were the beams of the ancient temple’s roof, plummeting toward him.

  SERA AND FOSSEGRIM were preparing to follow Alítheia out of her lair and through a tunnel when it hit.

  There was a deep boom, and then a shock wave so strong that it shook the walls and knocked Sera down. Her head smacked against the floor. Dazed, she pushed herself up and looked around.

  Fossegrim had also been knocked down. Alítheia was on her back, legs clawing at the air.

  With much clanking and pounding, she righted herself, then scurried to the iron grille that covered the entrance to her den. Sera helped Fossegrim up, and they both followed her.

  “What was that?” Sera asked. “What’s happening?”

  “I wish I knew, child,” Fossegrim replied weakly.

  The three looked out of the grille. Almost immediately, Alítheia drew back. “There isss much light,” she said fearfully. “Which meansss much lava.”

  As Fossegrim, still dazed from the explosion, sank back down to the den’s floor, Sera hooked her fingers through the bars of the grille and angled her body this way and that, trying to get a better view. She saw more bursts of light. Heard more explosions, as well as screams and shouts, bellowed orders, the neighing of hippokamps, the blood-curdling roar of dragons.

  Her head was still swimming. The noise, the light—none of it made any sense.

  And then it did.

  “Great Neria,” she whispered, stunned. “It’s them.”

  “Sera, what do you see?” Fossegrim called up to her.

  She released the iron bars and swam down. “Fossegrim, we’ve got to get out here.”

  “Do you know what’s happening?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

  Sera nodded. “I do,” she said, helping the old merman up. “The battle for Cerulea has begun.”

  “THIS IS NOT WISE, Serafina,” Fossegrim cautioned breathlessly. “You should stay in the spider’s den. At least wait to see how the Black Fins fare before you venture into the fray. What happens if Vallerio bests them and you’re taken?”

  “I can’t do that, Fossegrim,” Sera said. “This is my fight. I need to be with my Black Fins, win or lose.”

  Sera and Fossegrim were hurrying down a tunnel that led from Alítheia’s lair to the palace’s dungeons. The spider was leading the way, her bronze feet crunching the bones that littered the floor.

  “Alítheia, if there’s an exit, why haven’t you ever used it?” Sera asked.

  “Because the tunnel narrowsss asss it getsss clossse to the palace,” the spider had explained. “Alítheia isss too big. Ssshe hasss tried to fit through. Many timesss.”

  Even though she was frantic to join her fighters, Sera heard the sadness in the spider’s voice, and her heart hurt at the thought of the lonely creature futilely trying to squeeze through the tapering tunnel.

  As the three continued down the passage, Fossegrim asked, “What happens when we arrive at the dungeons? How will we evade the guards?”

  “That shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” Sera replied. “With Cerulea under attack, most of the guards won’t be at their posts.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Sera smiled grimly. “I know my uncle. I know how he thinks. He’ll have ordered most of the guards to leave the dungeon to defend the palace. Fossegrim, you said you were in the dungeons for quite some time. Who was with you?”

  “Political prisoners.”

  “Criminals, too?”

  “No,” he replied with a bitter laugh. “The criminals are all in the palace, not the dungeons. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m going to need some help. I might be able to unlock Alítheia’s grille, but I’ll never be able to lift it by myself.”

  Fossegrim’s eyes lit up. “Do you have a plan?”

  “I do. I’ll tell you all about it when we get out of here.”

  The tunnel started to narrow, then it abruptly angled toward a thin doorway.

  “There are the dungeonsss,” the spider said, pointing ahead. “Alítheia can go no farther.”

  “Thank you for getting us here, Alítheia,” said Sera. “Thank you for listening to me, for trusting me. As soon as I can, I’ll come back for you.”

  The anarachna looked away. Sera could tell that she didn’t believe her. She swam up, so that she was level with the spider’s eyes.

  “Alítheia, look at me,” she said, taking the creature’s face in her hands. “Wait for me by the grille. I will come for you. I swear on my crown that I’ll set you free.”

  “You mussst win back that crown before you can sssweear upon it,” the spider said solemnly, delicately touching a claw to Sera’s cheek. “And Lucia will not let you. Ssshhe is very ssstrong.”

  “Love is stronger,” Sera said. “And love will win, Alítheia.”

  “Once, perhapsss. But not now. In thisss realm, evil hasss vanquissshed love.”

  Another huge explosion rocked the stone tunnel. A chunk of the ceiling fell to the floor, narrowly
missing Sera and sending up a cloud of silt.

  “Go, Ssserafina,” the spider said.

  “Alítheia—”

  “Go. Before you are crussshed.”

  Sera nodded. She hurried Fossegrim through the doorway, then followed him.

  Alítheia watched them go, blinking her many eyes. Then, her head low, she turned and made her way back to her den.

  SERA CAMOED HERSELF to blend in with the dungeon’s floor and swam low until she reached a window. Then she raised herself slightly to look through it.

  It was the guards’ room, hollowed into the rock. Its front wall was made of thick, shatterproof glass that allowed the guards to see out into the corridor.

  Just as she’d thought, only a skeleton crew was on duty. There were three guards total, one slim, two brawny, talking among themselves.

  “If this place starts to cave in, I’m gone,” one said. “I’m not going to be here when the ceiling crashes down.”

  “What about the prisoners?” the second guard asked.

  “They can fend for themselves. No one cares if they live or die anyway.”

  Sera cased the room, making note of where the keys to the cells were kept, and the weapons. As she returned to Fossegrim, another explosion rocked the palace. The creaks and groans that followed, and the spidery cracks that appeared in the walls, upset the prisoners. Sera could hear them calling to one another from their cells.

  “What’s happening?”

  “A chunk of the hallway just crumbled!”

  “We’re going to be crushed!”

  “There are three guards,” Sera informed Fossegrim. “You’ve got to get them all to come out. Are you sure you can do it?” she asked. He looked so weak and so pale to her.

  Fossegrim smiled. The light of defiance burned in his eyes. “Watch me,” he said.

  Sera nodded, then she returned to the guard room. This time she swam along the ceiling, hoping they would be so preoccupied readying themselves to leave that they wouldn’t look up.

  When she was in position, she gave Fossegrim the thumbs-up. He returned the signal, lay down on the dungeon floor, then started yelling at the top of his lungs.