Scimitar's Heir (28 page)

“Oh, aye, lass,” Feldrin said heavily. “We’ll
all
be gettin’ out of here. I promise you that!”

“Considering the number of promises you’ve broken, you’ll forgive me if that doesn’t give me any comfort,” Edan said, glaring at Feldrin.

Cynthia’s fury flooded her senses, fed by her sorrow, guilt and desperation, shattering her façade of control. She pinned Edan with a glare. “We’ve kept
every
promise we ever made to you, Edan! You wouldn’t even
be
a pyromage if not for us, so how about a little gods-damned
gratitude
! And I’d be a little more cautious about insulting the only people who can get you out of here alive. Because if
we
don’t get out,
you
don’t get out. How is
that
for incentive?”

Edan’s stepped back from her wrath, his bluff gone, and Flicker cowered behind his neck, wide eyed. “I…I didn’t really mean it like that.”

Cynthia closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, then felt Feldrin’s hand on her arm.

“Let it be, lass. The lad’s just got pre-fight jitters, just like the rest of us.”

She shrugged off his hand and steeled her resolve. “Fine, now stand back and let me work.”

Cynthia knelt again and placed a hand on the cool bronze hatch. She could feel the sea below the hatch, pressing upward, eager to rise to sea level.
Back
, she thought, willing the water away. The heavy metal hatch shuddered and dropped a half inch at one end, and air rushed into the empty space she had created, which made it easier. She continued to urge the water away, and the stair dropped a half foot. As it tilted, the steps rotated out from its flat surface, remaining parallel to the floor. She stepped aboard the tilting hatch and rode it down, urging a tendril of water up to wet her feet and firm her connection with the sea.

“Have a care, lass,” Feldrin said, one huge hand on her shoulder, the other gripping one of his boarding axes. “Let me go first. Don’t know if one of yer fishy friends might be waitin’ with a trident handy.”

“I
checked
, Feldrin,” she said impatiently. “There’s nothing down here but water.” She shrugged off his hand and descended the stair, urging the last of the water away. The heavy hatch touched down with a substantial impact, enough to reverberate through the floor and walls.

“Well, we just rung their doorbell.” Feldrin said, following her down the steps with his ungainly gait.

“Great,” Edan muttered, relieving Rhaf of his torch and following Feldrin down the steps.

“Do not worry, Edan,” Ghelfan said, bringing up the rear of their procession. He withdrew a glow crystal from a pouch at his hip and drew his slim rapier. “The mer have surely known that we are here all along.”

Cynthia stepped off the stair with a little splash. She’d left a few inches of water on the floor to maintain a strong connection with the sea, and as they proceeded down the hall, she would allow the water to flow past and fill in behind them. To keep the entire corridor free of water would be too much of a strain. When the others all stood beside her, Cynthia called up to Rhaf and Janley.

“Remember, as we move away the water will rise and the hatch will close. Don’t worry.”

“Aye, Mistress,” Rhaf said, though both men looked nervous.

“And if you see the release pop open, one of you run like hell and block open the next stair,” Feldrin added. “The other stays to help us.”

“Aye Capt’n,” Janley said with a quick salute. “The runnin’ part I think you can count on.”

“Great,” Edan muttered yet again. He flinched at every drip that fell on him from overhead. Flicker perched on his shoulder and nuzzled his ear, her flaming hair coursing harmlessly along his skin.

Cynthia shuddered and turned away. Just the sight of the flames on his skin made her uncomfortable, and she knew that Edan felt similar discomfort down here, so out of his element and so close to the power she wielded.
Just as long as he doesn’t panic
, she thought,
and does his job
. She forced all thoughts of fire and Edan out of her mind and led them toward the Chamber of Life, ever mindful of the sea rushing past their feet to refill their only way out.

≈

Eelback felt the heavy vibration down his sensitive lateral lines; water was a much-better transmitter of sound than air, and this sound in particular was one he had long awaited, for it set all his long-laid plans in motion.

*Kelpie!* He flipped his tail and snapped to a stop before Odea’s priestess. *It is time. Give me the seamage’s finling and cast your invocation so that I may breathe air.*

Kelpie’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating until her green irises were bare slivers. *And you will free Tailwalker?* she signed, her hands trembling upon the swaddled babe.

*As I have promised, you and the trident holder’s son will be free to go.* He held out his hands. *Give me the child and cast the invocation.*

*On your word, Eelback.* She handed over the silent bundle—the child was sleeping peacefully—lifted the silver crescent and hilt of the Scimitar Moon from her breast, and beseeched Odea’s blessing. The icon glowed as she moved her hands in a broad arc, calling on the sea goddess’ power.

Eelback felt a slight flush and a discomfort in his chest. The babe squirmed in the swaddling clothes, but settled without waking. *Is it done?*

*Yes. You will breathe as landwalkers do when air touches your face. Now, free Tailwalker.* Her eyes bore into him, and her holy icon continued to glow with its soft blue light.

*Slickfin, cut Tailwalker’s bonds and escort them to the outer city.*

Slickfin passed her dagger between Tailwalker’s bound wrists, slicing the ties, and motioned them toward the exit. *Come, both of you,* she signed.

Kelpie cast one last suspicious glance at Eelback, then grasped Tailwalker’s arm to guide him. The trident holder’s son tried to shake off her grasp, but his arms were weak from long binding, and truly, he needed her aid. In the end, he submitted, and the two followed Slickfin out of the chamber. When they were out of sight, Eelback turned to Redtail and gave the order that would execute the next phase of his plan.

*Tell the myxine that the time has come for them to feed.*

*Yes, Eelback,* his friend signed, but before he could flip his tail to leave, Eelback gripped his arm.

*And remind them, Redtail; no landwalker, and no
mer
, must be allowed to leave Akrotia alive.*

*Yes, Eelback,* Redtail signed, his head bobbing in subservience, though his color shifted with discomfort.

*Good! Now, go!*

Redtail flipped his tail and was gone.

To the rest of his warriors, Eelback signed, *When Redtail and Slickfin return, close all the doors to the outer city. We will stay safe inside while the myxine feed outside.*

Their fists hammered their chests in salute and they darted off to their duties.

Eelback looked down at the seamage’s child in his arms, so weak and helpless and pink, then thought of his own offspring waiting in Slickfin’s throat to be hatched. They would beget a great school of mer here and make Akrotia strong again. His plan needed only one more thing to be complete, and she was on her way. He clapped his gills in excitement, then flipped his tail and swam as quickly as he could toward the Chamber of Life.

≈

“I don’t like this, mate,” Rhaf said, scratching the three-day stubble on his chin as he and Janley watched the stair slowly float up from the corridor below. “Don’t seem right.”

“Aye,” Janley agreed, “with the Capt’n’s bum leg and only the four of ‘em. Ye’d think we mighta brought the whole crew ta—”

A sharp crack from down the corridor broke their conversation, and both men whipped around, their hands on the hilts of their weapons. Rhaf didn’t relish having to fight off one of those hairy beasts with just two swords and one torch between them, but they’d been ordered to guard the hatch, and guard it they would. Quietly, keeping an eye on the veil of darkness where torchlight met oblivion, he drew his cutlass and bent to lay his crowbar aside, then motioned for Janley to do the same.

Janley’s crowbar clanged to the floor.

“Shhhh!” Rhaf hissed, sparing a quick glance to his mate.

Janley staggered, emitting a quiet, “Uhhh,” and looked down in shock. Four inches of bloodied steel protruded from his chest. Rhaf stared in shock as Janley toppled, the blade slipping free as quietly as it had entered.

Instinct kicked in and Rhaf whirled, slashing cross-body with the honed reflexes of a veteran privateer, but his blade met only air. His foe stood much shorter than he’d anticipated, and ducked under his stroke. He looked and saw a girl, and hesitated for an instant; enough for her to slash low across his abdomen. Rhaf clutched at the wound instinctively, and warm wetness filled his hand. He swung a desperate backstroke, but she parried it, then lunged. He felt a strange shock as the steel pierced his chest, and all his strength left him. His cutlass fell from nerveless fingers, and he collapsed in a heap as she jerked the blade free.

“Sorry, mates,” the girl said, her voice distant in his ears. She snatched up one of the crowbars and jammed it into the slowly rising hatch. “Can’t leave anyone behind me, and I need to come back this way.”

Rhaf tried to reach for his sword, even as he lay curled around his wounds, but his muscles would not answer. The dropped torch sputtered, and its flame flickered in warning a moment before he felt cool water on his cheek. The light dimmed, or maybe it was his vision, but he saw the girl squirm through the gap in the hatch into the dark, salty water below. He heard her take several deep breaths, then, with a splash, she was gone. The water gurgled, rising through the open hatch, and the torch went out. Rhaf sighed one last time, too weak to move. His senses dimmed before the water rose over him.

≈

Deep beneath Akrotia, the myxine received Eelback’s message with great excitement. The festering corpse of the leviathan that they had been using as both food and nest writhed, its thick hide undulating as their fervor mounted. Pungent pheromones, thick in the slime-choked water that they shared, called them to the hunt.

The side of the huge corpse ruptured, spilling forth the squirming school of myxine and a mass of thick, grey-white slime that sank slowly into the depths. The myxine numbered more than a thousand strong, so tightly packed that they resembled a single twisting, wriggling body. Swarming as one toward the light in search of their promised prey, the myxine surged forward to feast.

Chapter 21

Threats Revealed

Edan’s feet squelched miserably in his wet shoes. The water on the floor was three inches deep, and more dripped from the ceiling onto his head and shoulders. He had dared one glance back, holding the torch high, and immediately regretted it. The corridor was filling behind them, a glistening wedge of water so clear that the torchlight wavered and flickered along the submerged walls, giving the illusion of motion. As if that was not discomforting enough, the power that Cynthia exerted pressed on him like a nauseating, smothering weight, and the air felt heavy and hard to breathe. It made him want to retch, to turn and run, but there
was
no place to run. The sea flowed away before them and closed in behind. The only way out was with the seamage, and she was too crazy with the loss of her baby to be reasoned with. He was stuck in this to the end, so he just kept slogging forward.

Cynthia maintained a steady pace. At every branching corridor or door, Ghelfan directed them on. Soon they approached a dead end, closed by one of the curious doors of spiraled metal.

“This is it,” Ghelfan said, tracing the elvish inscriptions on the wall. “This is the Chamber of Life.”

“Open it.” Feldrin’s voice echoed harshly off the confines of the corridor and his huge hands flexed on the hafts of his boarding axes. For once, Edan didn’t resent the man’s strength or bluff ways; if he was going to go into battle, the Morrgrey captain was a formidable ally.

“Wait!” Cynthia stepped forward and placed a hand on the door, closing her eyes in concentration. “The chamber is flooded.” Her eyes snapped wide open, and she looked back at her husband. “There’s a mer inside. Just one.”

“Eelback,” Feldrin said through gritted teeth. “It’s gotta be.” He turned to Edan. “Time to put Flicker in her hiding place.”

“Right.” Knowing the firesprite would give Edan away as a pyromage, they had planned for her to hide in the only place she could. “Okay Flick. Like I said, remember?” Flicker nodded and hunkered along the burning torch so only her head peeked over the top. From more than a few feet away, it was impossible to see her.

“You too, Mouse. We don’t want anything to distract the mer,” Feldrin said. Mouse nodded and slipped down the back collar of Cynthia’s blouse. Feldrin turned back to face the door. “Open it, Ghelfan.”

“Yes, open it,” Cynthia agreed, stepping back. “I’ll hold back the sea. When the door is open, I’ll drain the chamber before we move in. With any luck, Eelback will be incapacitated.” To Edan’s ear, she didn’t sound too sure about their luck playing out according to plan.

“Very well.”

The shipwright turned the wheel to the left of the door, and the portal slowly opened. Beyond stood a shimmering wall of water. Edan stumbled back; the force of the seamage’s power, holding all that water in place, pressed down on him like a lead weight. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

“Are you all right, Edan?” Cynthia asked.

He swallowed his gorge and gasped for breath, but Ghelfan crooked an arm under his and steadied him. He forced himself upright and met her eyes.

“Just do what you have to do, Cynthia.” He forced himself to concentrate on the gentle flutter of the torch’s light. Flicker turned her head and smiled tentatively at him, her eyes glowing orange-white, her hair melding with the torch’s flame. Edan considered raising his own fire a bit, just enough to overcome the nausea of the sea magic, but was afraid it might make Cynthia lose her own concentration. And right now, her concentration was all that was keeping them alive. He focused instead on the torch: heat…flame…fire. His discomfort eased, and he made himself watch as Cynthia stepped forward and placed one hand into the wall of water.

Edan saw the muscles in the seamage’s jaw bunch with effort. The water rippled with her magic, then he felt it pulse against him. He staggered, but Ghelfan’s grasp on his arm kept him on his feet. Edan slid his hand up the torch until his fingers were bathed in the flames, and Flicker caressed the back of his knuckles. He felt his mind steady; he could resist the feeling of being smothered, drowned in the cold sea.

Water receded from the seamage’s touch.

“Big room,” Cynthia said through clenched teeth. The water retreated before her, flowing down the strangely bright walls and away as the Chamber of Life emptied. She stepped through the doorway and they followed. Edan leaned heavily on Ghelfan’s arm, hoping that when the time came, he would have the strength to do what needed to be done.