by Jade Kerrion
Ashe was not sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. She walked around the pedestal, then knelt to trace the scarcely visible script on its side. The Sphere of the Elements.
“You can read it?” Varun squatted down beside her, wincing as he shifted his weight on his injured leg. “I thought you said you didn’t know Atlantean. Except for the curse words.”
I can fake my way through it, but this isn’t Atlantean. It’s the First Tongue—the one that eventually evolved into Beltiamatu and many of the ancient languages, including Atlantean.
“And you can read it?”
Not well, but enough of it. She tilted her head to study the inscription. The sphere’s light summons great protectors against humanity’s ancient curse. There’s a bit more here, but the script looks like it was scratched out—deliberately.
“Can’t you make it out at all?”
Something about someone buried somewhere. That’s all. The details are gone.
With a low grunt, Varun pushed back to his feet and walked around the pedestal. “It doesn’t look like they lit the sphere before Atlantis was destroyed. But there are only four elements. What’s the fifth?”
Ashe shrugged. She rejoined Varun at the base of the pedestal. Their eyes met, and he nodded.
She placed her hands against two imprints.
Two of the small spheres flickered, then the light steadied into a radiant glow. One of the spheres swirled with purple-pink hues, the other with blue-green shades. The color of the two spheres surged through the thin channels, then poured like vapor into the large, central sphere.
The colors swirled, blended, but nothing happened.
“The other three elements have to contribute their power too.”
Ashe and Varun whirled around at the deep, resonant voice.
She blinked at the gnome, scarcely three feet tall. It wore brown overalls over a blue shirt, and its hat was red and pointed. White curls sprouted from his head and face in a tangle of hair and beard. Deep laugh lines scoured his face, but the dipping furrow on his brow suggested that it had been a long time since he had found anything amusing. “What is a Child of the Earth and a Daughter of Air doing here?”
Varun’s eyes widened. “You can talk. You’re alive.”
She rolled her eyes. Of course he can talk. He’s an earth elemental.
“Wait, what? The garden gnome? But my mother has one of these statues in her garden. That’s just a statue, right?”
The gnome huffed. “Of course they are just statues, like mermaid-shaped jewelry is just jewelry. But most icons have their basis in reality, like miss former-mermaid-princess here, so why not a garden gnome?”
Varun knelt, putting himself at eye level with the gnome. “Wow, this is amazing.” A smile spread over his face as he extended his hand. “I’m Varun Zale.”
The gnome extended his hand until their fingertips—not their palms—touched. “My name is Duggae.”
You’ve maintained this garden, Duggae? Ashe asked.
“We have, for thousands of years.” The gnome’s absentminded nod made him look more like a scholarly librarian, instead of what Ashe knew him to be—a powerful earth elemental. Only the strongest would have been given the thankless responsibility of protecting Atlantis. Duggae’s eyes—jet black, speckled with silver—gleamed with power. He continued, “It has been one of our main responsibilities since the foundation of the city. Atlantis was built to defend against the encroachment of the merfolk.”
Ashe frowned. That’s not the story I’ve heard.
Duggae shrugged. “Illusions. We’re all entitled to our own. When the Lords of the Ocean fired their psychotic weapon at Atlantis, the earth elementals rallied to protect the core—this place. If it had exploded, the shockwaves would have been felt around the world. It might have set civilization so far back, humanity might never have rebuilt.”
She glared at the gnome. Humans are like cockroaches. You can’t ever fully get rid of them.
The half-frown on Varun’s face confirmed that he was not entirely certain he liked his people being talked about as if he weren’t even there, but the scientist in him was obviously too fascinated by the history lesson to object. “What is this place, this forest, so far beneath the Earth?”
Duggae glanced around, a smile softening his face. “It is a temple to the Queen of Heaven and Earth. I guess you might say she wanted to make a point that she could rule anywhere, even under the Earth. This temple formed the foundation of the thirteenth tower, but even before Atlantis, it was here, a testament to the eternal resilience of the Earth. And this—” Duggae pointed at the pedestal. “—is what the temple protects.”
The Sphere of the Elements, Ashe murmured.
“In moments of dire need, it summons protectors to defend the great mother,” Duggae said.
Define dire need.
Duggae shrugged. “Don’t know. The Earth is still alive—for the most part—so presumably we haven’t quite arrived at that moment of dire need.”
But the sphere works only if it is lit. Ashe frowned. What will it take to light it?
“You already know part of the answer, Daughter of Air, Lady of the Ocean.”
Varun frowned. “So earth and fire would be the other two elements. What’s the fifth?”
Duggae shrugged. “The sphere has never been fully lit.”
“Who created it?” Varun asked. “Surely someone must know.”
“Some say it was the patron goddess of Atlantis.”
“The Queen of Heaven and Earth? Who is…?”
Duggae shrugged again. He tugged his crinkly white beard. “Lots of debate on that one. Seems the records aren’t clear.”
Ashe frowned. The wind dancing around her jerked through the grass and flowers. Something did not make sense, but she could not quite pin it down. Atlantis had the most complete archive of history, apart from the Beltiamatu.
“Well, your people blew all that up. Hardly anything of it has survived.” Duggae spread his hands. “Besides, records only get you so far. They don’t help if there are conflicting accounts, or of the storyteller was dealing with a lifelong hangover.”
What about the section on the pedestal that looks like the words were scratched out?
“Oh, he did that, the first time he came.”
Ashe stiffened. He?
“The lord of the ocean, before you kicked his butt and took his job.”
Zamir?
“It’s quite the story, you know.” The gnome gave Ashe a sly look. “It’s the talk of the four realms. How often does one cross over species—several times, no less? It’s as if you can’t make up your mind what to be. Females…” Duggae gave Varun a resigned look. “They’re all like that, regardless of species.”
You said Zamir was here, not recently, but before that?
“A hundred and fifty years ago, give or take a couple of decades. He came in through the marine entrance.” Duggae pointed toward the far side of the chamber.
And you were here then?
Duggae nodded. “Our shifts run about three hundred years. It’s just about all the boredom one can handle at a time. I’d taken over the Atlantean post a decade or two earlier, when Zamir came, with his mermen.”
“And you told them to get the hell out?” Varun asked.
“One does not argue with a legion of armed Beltiamatu.”
Ashe tipped her head toward Varun. He did.
“You’re lucky to be alive, then. They are not called the Beltiamatu—Lords of the Abyss—for nothing.”
“What did Zamir do?”
“The same thing you did—try to activate the Sphere of the Elements—but he couldn’t manage it, not even one. Then he ordered his men to rub out part of the inscription on the pedestal.”
“Which part?”
“About releasing the Great Arbiter of Life and Death.”
“Which is who?”
Duggae shrugged.
“Is that the same person as the Queen of Heaven an
d Earth? Where can we find this Great Arbiter? Where’s the prison?”
Duggae shrugged again.
Varun flung his arms up in the air. “Really? All these elementals, all this power, and no one knows anything? What could this Arbiter have done for Zamir?”
Duggae glared at Varun. “Just guessing, from its name, perhaps given him a soul.”
Ashe stiffened. So it wasn’t Medea.
“That ancient witch? No, it wasn’t Medea.”
Varun glanced at Ashe, his eyebrows raised. “You really thought Medea might have put Zamir up to it, even though she said she didn’t?”
Ashe’s response was a shrug, far more graceful than Duggae’s, but no less indifferent.
Varun scowled. “You have trust issues, did you know that?” He turned back to Duggae. “Did Zamir do or say anything else?”
Duggae shook his head. “He was young then, scarcely in his prime, but already lord of the Beltiamatu. Even among others, he stood apart from them, not distanced by his royal blood, but by some lack in him.”
Ashe stiffened.
Varun’s hand grasped hers, his touch steadying her. His gaze flicked back to Duggae. “What do you mean?”
She was grateful Varun asked the question stuck in her throat.
Duggae paced a restless path through the sacred grove, his feet firmly touching the ground yet not crushing any plant, however small, beneath them. “Zamir wore loneliness like an armor. He said little, as if giving voice to his pain would crush him.” Duggae turned to Ashe, and their eyes met. “I know he’s a monster now, one who would destroy the ocean and even the land in his absurd quest for a soul, but he was not like that—not the first time he came. In fact…” Duggae frowned. “I didn’t get the impression he sought a soul for himself, or that he sought a soul at all.”
“Then what did he want?”
“It seemed that he wanted answers on passing between worlds. Water to air. And back. The veil between realms is thinnest here, don’t you see? If there are answers anywhere to be found, it would have been here.”
“You said…passing between worlds…like Ashe did?” Varun glanced at her.
“I think he wanted to find you,” Duggae continued. “Seems to me he was under the mistaken impression that you were bound in servitude to the Daughters of Air.”
Which I am, she pointed out.
“Willing servitude. He missed that part of the fine print. I think he was trying to find a way to return you to the ocean.”
I can’t return to the ocean. I’m no longer a Beltiamatu.
“Excuses.” Duggae snorted. “You should have communicated more with your son. You could have, and you know that. The air has power, even in water.”
I had responsibilities.
“To him.”
Ashe glared at Duggae. As a Daughter of Air.
Duggae waved Ashe’s defense away. “Your responsibility, first and foremost, was as his mother. He needed you. Your altered physical state was no excuse, but it is too late now, about two hundred and ninety-seven years too late.”
Varun stepped between Duggae and Ashe. “News flash. There’s a concept among us puny humans about ownership. Owning your life, your choices, and the consequences—whatever life throws your way.”
Another voice, infused with the turbulence of waves and power of the tides, broke in. “But it’s never that simple, is it?”
From the darkness on the far side of the room, Zamir stepped forward. The shadows peeled back from his muscular form atop human legs. His beard was full and white; his hair flowed like a mantle over his shoulders. His bearing was erect and strong—a king in every sense of the word. For Beltiamatu, age and infirmity apparently did not go hand in hand.
Varun made a soft sound in his throat—part chuckle, part-growl. “You were cooler with a tail.”
“But tails aren’t in fashion anymore, hadn’t you heard?” Zamir gave Ashe a pointed glance. “The ocean isn’t either.”
Varun’s eyes narrowed. “The ocean will survive you.”
“Perhaps my body, but my soul will survive it.”
Varun smirked. “You don’t have one yet.”
Zamir’s eyes narrowed. “And you are certain of it.”
“You wouldn’t still be hanging around here in the dumps if you did.”
Duggae’s eyebrows beetled. “Hey! This is not the dumps. Atlantis was the beacon of human civilization. Before the merfolk ripped it apart.”
Ashe’s gaze flicked to the deep shadows on either side of Zamir. There were others with him; the scarcely perceptible movement of air confirmed it. Zamir, what did you do?
His bitterness-encrusted gaze met hers. “I made a deal with the Great Arbiter.”
A soul is not the answer, Zamir.
“And so you have said, yet it is a soul you seek.”
At this point, I’m just trying to clean up my mess. And your mess.
“I did not embark upon this madness, Mother.” The word dripped with disdain. “You did. Perhaps insanity runs in our family, as it does in his.” Zamir smirked at Varun.
Varun shook his head. “They weren’t insane. Turns out, twelve generations of mermaid-believing kooks were right, and I was merely the outlier—the stubborn, cynical one. What exactly was the deal you made with the Arbiter? What did your soul cost?”
“A soul, in exchange for freeing her and extending her dominion.”
“Her?” Varun’s jaw dropped. “And extending her dominion to what?”
Zamir smiled. “When the oceans and the land become perfect mirrors of her kingdom, she will grant me a soul.”
Ashe’s thoughts raced as she parsed Zamir’s words. So the Queen of Heaven and Earth wasn’t the same person as the Arbiter of the Living and the Dead? She glanced at Varun, but apparently, he had reached the same conclusion.
“You want a soul? To what end? To live forever in a dead ocean? Wander a desolate land?” Varun flung out his arm. “What is the point?”
Zamir blinked several times, and for an instant, looked vulnerable.
“You didn’t think about that?” Varun demanded. “What the hell—?”
“You have no right to challenge me!” Zamir pointed an accusing finger at Varun. “You understand nothing!”
“But I do. I have a right, as a person, living on this Earth and in love with the ocean you tried to destroy. And I understand—better than you think. The Beltiamatu are the Lords of the Ocean. You were supposed to watch over the sea, to protect it.”
Zamir’s mouth tugged into a sneer. “Is that what she told you the Beltiamatu do? Then she lied, as all women lie. The nymphs—daughters of Poseidon and Oceanus—protect the waters of the world. They are the true water elementals. The Beltiamatu are aliens—an invasive species that set out to conquer the planet, only to realize that its native population was as power-hungry and as blood-thirsty. And unfairly advantaged. They had souls. They could touch eternity in a way we never could.”
Varun rolled his eyes. “Have you actually talked to humans about these souls of theirs? No one really thinks about souls with any sort of regularity. It’s not worth whatever trouble you think it is.”
“Just because you personally know nothing of what happens beyond death does not make a soul not worth attaining.”
Varun stiffened, as if struck. “And do you?”
“I have seen it.” Zamir’s gaze lost its sharp focus, and his voice took on a dreamy quality. “She showed it to me.”
Who is she, Zamir?
Ashe’s voice snapped the scowl back on Zamir’s face. His face set in taut lines as he turned to face her. “She is the Great Arbiter of Life and Death. And she knows who you are, Asherah.”
Chapter 16
Ashe.
Asherah.
Varun stared at Ashe—familiar, yet somehow different. Why the sudden chill, the unexpected tightness in his shoulders at her full name?
And why did the Great Arbiter of Life and Death—presumably possessed of god-like powe
rs and aggressive plans for world dominion—know Ashe?
It could not possibly be related to the ancient Greek gods—Varun knew enough of his local pantheon and its Roman spin-off. But if it wasn’t Mediterranean—what had Ashe once said in passing…that the Beltiamatu language eventually evolved into Atlantean and birthed the Sumerian tongue?
What did he know about Mesopotamian mythology?
Next to nothing.
His thoughts flicked through stories he had heard as a child in church—
Maybe something about Baal.
And Asherah…
Varun’s heart stuttered. “Asherah?”
She gave him a quick sideways glance. It’s just a name.
“Names have power,” Duggae cut in.
I was Beltiamatu, and I am now a Daughter of Air. I’m not anything more than that—Oh wait, I am also Lady of the Ocean. Her eyes narrowed on Zamir, and her voice snapped with the irritable tone Varun more than recognized. It was almost a relief to know she was that way with everyone—not just him.
“And where is the trident?” Zamir demanded.
The trident does not make the ruler. Surely you know that.
“It doesn’t matter. Keep the trident as a souvenir of the wasteland the oceans will become. What I started will not stop. She will not be thwarted.”
A soul would be worth nothing to you in a devastated, ruined Earth. Where is the Arbiter?
“That information is worth nothing to you.” Zamir mimed her turn of phrase. “She’s not the one responsible for what is happening, and challenging her will gain you nothing.”
But she wants to ruin the Earth. Why?
“You wanted a soul,” Zamir challenged. “Why?”
Because I was young and stupid, but she doesn’t get to use that same excuse for destroying the Earth. Zamir, she’s promised you a soul. Didn’t you ask why?
“It was enough to know I could afford its cost.”
Can you? Ashe stepped forward. Where is she, Zamir?
“You’re in no position to make demands.”
Aren’t I? She flung out her arm. The wind whipped up her hair and hurled out invisible tentacles, striking at the shadows behind Zamir. Voices shouted in alarm as hidden Beltiamatu warriors tumbled backward, toppling over each other.