Waterborne (20 page)

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Authors: Katherine Irons

BOOK: Waterborne
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If only Uncle Orion would come. He had a big sword and he might bring Uncle Paris and Uncle Alex. They would chase away all the bad people and take care of her father. Uncle Alex was her favorite. He had lots of important stuff to do, but when he was home, he always came to see her. He would take her riding on giant sea horses and ask the cooks to make honey cakes, even if it was too early in the day for little girls to want special treats. And then Uncle Alex would share her cakes, and he’d tell her funny stories about when he and Daddy and Uncle Orion were small and got into trouble.
If her uncles came, they would take her and Daddy home. Mommy would squeeze her tight and kiss her eyelids and her nose. Danu sniffed and rubbed her nose. There wasn’t any reason to cry. Someone would come and take Daddy to the temple and make him better. Aunt Morwena had promised.
Meanwhile, Danu would do her best. She would keep talking to Daddy and pray for him. Lady Athena, her secret grandmother, had told her that the best prayers were those offered by children, and those that were made up naturally were stronger than any recited in the temple. So, she prayed to the Supreme Being to save her father, and she kept talking.
Twice, she heard people in the hallways nearby, shouting and crying. She tried to get Echo to go and see if they were good or bad, but the dolphin swam restlessly back and forth guarding the entrance and angrily jaw-clapping and spewing bubbles from her blowhole. And nothing Danu could say could get the dolphin to go a stroke farther from her and Daddy.
Danu was tired. Her head hurt, and she knew that soon she wouldn’t be able to summon the light anymore. “Please,” she murmured, squeezing her eyes tight. “Please send help. Send it soon.”
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you.”
Danu gasped and her heart flopped in her chest like a baby dolphin wanting to be born from its mother. She knew that voice. She’d heard it when the bad witch had locked her in the cage when she was little. Something soft and fuzzy rubbed against Danu’s hand. Trembling, she bit her bottom lip and opened her eyes.
Light made her blink. Not a bright light, but a soft glow, like the light-fish over her bed at home. Only this light was blue with silver snowflakes sparkling in it. Danu closed her eyes again. “Cymry? Is that you?” she whispered.
“What do you think?”
Danu opened her eyes, just a crack, hoping. And then, just like before, right in front of her hovered a blue sea horse. It wasn’t a big one like the ones Uncle Alex took her riding on, and it wasn’t a tiny one like those that lived in Uncle Orion’s garden. This sea horse was exactly the right size. It had big blue eyes, a long silver mane, and a long, silver-colored tail. Even its hooves were silver, but its hide was a shimmering sea-blue.
“Cymry! It is you!” She hadn’t seen her friend since Aunt Morwena and Elena had rescued her from the witch, but the sea horse had promised she’d come back when Danu was bigger. She was bigger now, and she needed Cymry as much as she had then. Maybe more. “Oooh.” Danu threw her arms around the sea horse and hugged her. Cymry’s fur was as silky as a baby seal’s.
The sea horse gave a high whinny sound. “I’ve missed you, Danu,” she said.
“And I’ve missed you. Why didn’t you come back?”
“I have, haven’t I?”
“I need your magic. A bad man stabbed my daddy with a sword. Aunt Morwena went to get help, but I don’t know how to fix him. I think he might die.”
“You’re very brave, Danu. And you have your own magic. Powerful magic. You know what to do. You just have to remember and believe in yourself. Make a blue wall of light all around him and fill it with love.”
“That sounds easy.”
“It is, for you, precious one. You were born with a great gift of healing. Use it now to keep your daddy alive.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“Always, but you can’t tell anyone, because no one can see me but you.”
“Not even Echo?”
“No, not even dolphins can see me.”
“Why?”
“Because I come from a different place, far away in the stars. I came to your ocean a long, long, long time ago.”
“But why can I see you?”
Cymry gave a whinny that sounded just like a little laugh. “Because you carry the blood of the star people, and they were very wise.”
“Oh. My friend Obi told me that his mother said I used to be a human.”
“Humans and Atlanteans don’t just live one life. They have many. And they are really the same race, did you know that? But the people who live on land and breathe air forgot how to live in the sea, and the Atlanteans don’t always remember when they both were the same.”
“Oh.” Danu rubbed her cheek against Cymry’s soft fur. “So I was a human?”
“Sometimes. And sometimes you were Atlantean, and sometimes ... We’ll talk about that another time. Just know that even though you may not remember, we’ve been friends for a long time.”
“Really?”
“What’s important is that there’s no one like you. When you’re grown, you’ll remember a lot more and you’ll help humans and Atlanteans more than anyone knows. But today, you’re going to use your special powers to keep your father from dying until help can come.”
“Are you sure I can do that?” Danu asked.
“Positive.”
Even though Danu didn’t understand everything Cymry had said, she did exactly as the sea horse told her. She concentrated on surrounding Daddy with the blue light and kept talking to him. She didn’t know how long they waited for Aunt Morwena, but suddenly, she was back. Two healers were with her, and they quickly took Danu’s place on either side of Daddy. None of them noticed the magic sea horse, and Danu didn’t say a word about her.
“He’s alive,” the oldest woman said. “It’s all right, your highness. We’re taking you back to the temple for care. Everything is all right.”
Danu knew that her Aunt Morwena had been crying because her eyes were red, but when she threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly she didn’t feel sad. Aunt Morwena felt happy. “Is Daddy going to be okay now?” Danu asked. “Will the priestesses make him better?”
“I don’t know,” her aunt answered softly. “I hope so.”
“They will,” Cymry whispered in Danu’s ear. “Believe it.”
Four of the palace guards hurried in to carry him. Danu saw that the priestesses didn’t try to pull the sword out of her father’s side, so she knew that it had been the right thing to leave it alone. Her head still hurt, and her tummy felt funny. Cymry was still hovering beside her, but when Danu looked away and then looked back, the sea horse had vanished, and all she saw was another shower of glittering blue and gold flakes. “I want my mother,” Danu whispered to her Aunt Morwena. “Can you take me to Mommy?”
CHAPTER 20
 
O
rion opened his eyes to see Elena sitting beside his bed. He felt weak, and his thoughts were jumbled.
What happened at the archery range?
He’d been passing the time until Poseidon arrived by showing Paris the bow he’d commissioned a craftsman to fashion for Danu. The two of them had been standing near the far end of the field. Suddenly, men were shouting, and he saw his younger half brother Marcos take an arrow through the throat.
Orion remembered diving for his own bow, and the shock of the first arrow striking him. It hit him hard, striking him in the chest, and driving him to his knees. He called out to Paris, and then blackness had closed around him. He’d known nothing more until a short time ago when he’d awakened here in the temple. Not awakened so much as drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing scraps of conversations between the healers and muffled words cut off when someone neared his bed.
“... Attempted coup ...”
“... Prince Caddoc ... topple the throne ...”
“... small group of traitors ...”
“Elena?” he managed. Her beautiful image wavered, and he wondered if she was here beside him or he was dreaming. “Elena, is that you?” If she was here, she was safe. A sense of shame flooded him. But as much as he loved his family, this woman came first in his heart.
“It’s me,” she assured him. “Shhh. Try not to talk.”
“Someone shot me.” It was difficult to speak. His mouth tasted of blood and his throat felt dry and raw. Paris?
What happened to my brother?
“Three times.”
Orion groaned. “I only remember the first one. Paris? Where is he? Is he all right?”
Elena shook her head. “I’m so sorry. He was gone by the time the healers got to him.”
Pain lanced through him. He remembered the expression on his brother’s face, the laughter in his eyes just before all Hades broke out. It wasn’t possible that a life so vibrant could be snuffed out so quickly. But in his gut, he knew.
Orion swore softly. Elena wouldn’t lie. Paris, laughing, brave Paris, was gone. He didn’t have to ask about Marcos. He’d seen the damage the arrow had done, and he’d known that the boy’s life was forfeit. “I ...” He was so weary. He tried to raise his head, but it was too heavy.
Elena gripped his hand. “We thought we’d lost you, too. Heron’s lieutenant reported that both you and Paris had been killed by the rebels, but it was Marcos who was the second murdered prince. A dolphin who witnessed the attack said that after you were hit, Paris threw himself over your body to protect you.”
“And he died in my place.” Orion shuddered and his eyes burned with unshed tears. “He was always too bold.”
“And you wouldn’t have done the same for him?” she asked softly. Elena raised his bloodstained hand and kissed it. “If it’s any consolation, none of the killers left the archery range alive. It must have been a suicide attack. There were only five of them, two noble born and three mercenaries. They must have known that they’d be taken out.”
“Paris and Marcos were my younger brothers. I was supposed to protect them.” Orion gritted his teeth against the tidal wave of hurt. And then a rush of dread came over him.
Morgan. What of Morgan?
“The king? Is he—”
“Alive. Bad. Worse than you, but still alive. I’ll never understand Atlantean resilience and rate of healing. It seems almost miraculous. But I won’t lie to you. Poseidon lost so much blood that the healers fear he may never recover. He’s still unconscious.”
“Where? He wasn’t at the archery field.”
“Lord Pelagias waylaid him and lured him into an ambush. It was our little Danu who found him. Danu and Echo, with Morwena’s help, prevented the bastards from finishing what they started.”
“What of the others? Perseus and Rhiannon?”
“Both safe, thanks to Lady Athena, although the traitors tried to get to them. And young Lucas is unharmed. He had skipped archery practice to meet with a young lady.”
“And those responsible?” Orion asked. “Caddoc, I’m sure. Was Pelagias the ringleader here in the palace?”
“After questioning Lord Pelagias’ servants and one man who lived long enough to give some information, Lady Athena and the council believe that Lord Pelagias conspired with his sons to murder you, the king, and your brothers. They intended to put Caddoc on the throne.”
“Did he know about it?”
“Yes. But Caddoc wanted his name free of the taint of treason. His uncle, Lord Pelagias, was going to do all the dirty work for him.”
“Halimeda has to be at the core of this. Pelagias is her brother, and Caddoc isn’t smart enough to plan it alone.”
Elena sighed. “Lady Athena believes that Pelagias wanted to be vizier. He knew that if the coup succeeded, Caddoc would be a weak king. If Pelagias got rid of Lord Zale and became vizier in his place, he would be the real ruler of the kingdom.”
Orion tried to take it all in. It was almost a joke that so few men would attempt to assassinate Poseidon, his brothers, and his only son, but they’d almost gotten away with it. “Did they kill Lord Zale, too?”
“They tried, but our vizier outwitted them. He hid in a food cupboard until they went away.”
Orion closed his eyes. “I don’t suppose anyone has heard from Alex?”
“Nor expected to. There’s no way he could know.”
He thought he was going to vomit and wished the bed—the whole chamber—would stop swaying. He forced himself to open his eyes again and focus on Elena. “Who’s in command? Lady Athena or Lord Zale?”
She sighed heavily. “Now that you’re awake, I think it’s you. I heard her say that if the king died, they’d crown you in his place.”
“Prince Perseus is next in line, not me.”
“He’s only a baby. Rhiannon refuses to consider him being crowned. She’s afraid for his life, and the council agrees that it would be too dangerous to have a child ruler. If Poseidon dies, they all mean for you to assume the throne.”
 
“You didn’t tell me how we were going to get from wherever we are to American Samoa in time to prevent the dolphin drive,” Ree reminded Alex. “We’ll never do it by swimming. You haven’t neglected to tell me that Atlanteans can fly, too, have you?”
“Xchymtrzcy,”
Anuata said. “There’s a wormhole no more than five leagues from here.”
“Don’t confuse her.” Dewi motioned to a tiger shark passing over their heads. “Keep your eye on him. That’s a big one,” he said.
Ree looked up at the dark shadow and suppressed a shiver. She definitely wasn’t fond of sharks or the idea of swimming with them. At the moment, she wasn’t particularly fond of Alex either. How could he think that he could keep her out of the action? She would have been willing to help him drive off the dolphin killers, but he’d turned down her offer. If she got close enough to Pago Pago, she’d show him how much his authority meant to her.
The four had been swimming not far below the surface of the ocean for what Ree guessed was close to an hour. The island was little more than a speck of green on the horizon the last time they’d surfaced. The seas were relatively calm, no more than two to three foot waves with a ten knot breeze. Clouds hung low overhead, and only the occasional lonely seabirds flew overhead, bound, no doubt, for the spit of sand and trees she, Anuata, and the Atlanteans had just left.
“
Xchymtrzcy
is what the Lemorians call the seraphim,” Alex explained. “Think of it as fast transit, Atlantean style.”
“Now I understand perfectly,” Ree said sweetly. “Seraphim. We’re going to be carried to Samoa by Old Testament angels.”
“Not exactly,” Alex said. “It’s difficult to explain but you’ll soon see. No angels involved, I promise.”
“Now my curiosity is aroused.”
“Think of it as a powerful wind tunnel. Seraphim predate humanoids on this planet, and their size is enormous, larger than you could imagine. They didn’t exactly die out so much as evolve. Technically, they’re still alive, but they no longer move. We travel through their digestive system.”
“Fast,” Bleddyn added. “Very fast.”
Ree stopped swimming and stared at him. “You’re joking. Right?”
It would make a good story at McCarthy’s Pub in Cork.
She’d seen some pretty unbelievable things since Alex had come into her life, but traveling through a giant worm’s stomach topped them all.
“He’s not joking,” Anuata said.
“You’ll go with me,” Alex said. “It’s dark, and it’s noisy, and if you don’t take the right exit, it can be hairy.”
“What he means is that it can get you killed,” Dewi said.
Anuata grimaced. “If you end up as
xchymtrzcy
dinner.”
Alex touched Ree’s shoulder. “That won’t happen. Anuata is familiar with the route, and she’s going first. All we have to do is take the same chutes and hatches that she does. We’ll come out close enough to see the coast of Aunu’u.”
“Is there a station with turnstiles?” Ree asked wryly. “Do we have to use seraphim tokens, or will they take a credit card?”
“No, we just take advantage of the system,” Anuata replied with a grin that showed her pointed teeth. “You’ll love it.”
 
Grigori Varenkov stepped out of his shower, mopped the excess water from his naked body, and wrapped a silk lava-lava around his hirsute middle. He thrust his broad feet into a pair of Italian sandals and walked to the sideboard where a steward had laid out a buffet of roast pork, slabs of Kobe beef, smoked salmon, raw oysters, steamed shrimp, Beluga caviar, dark rye bread, and a few island favorites such as yams, taro, and breadfruit.
Varenkov poured himself a water glass of vodka and proceeded to heap a plate. He considered himself a simple man with simple tastes, and he liked plain food, well prepared without fancy sauces and French names. Varenkov prided himself on his legendary appetite. As a boy, he’d known too many days and nights of near starvation to deny himself anything now. And a man with an unlimited ticket could have a great deal of whatever he wanted, be it the pleasures of eating and drinking or those of a sexual nature.
He carried his oversized plate to the table, pulled out his chair and sat down. “Nigel, vill you join me?” Varenkov lifted his glass. “Come. There is plenty.”
His new bodyguard shook his head. “I’ve eaten,” he lied. Watching Varenkov eat always took away his appetite.
The Russian bit off huge mouthfuls and gobbled his food with such abandon that he invariably sprinkled his hairy chest and protruding belly with dribbles of grease and gristle, crumbs of bread and cheese, and smears of caviar. Varenkov would continue to stuff himself until he was gorged and his digestive system groaned under the weight. Neither loud belches nor prodigious farts deterred him until the platters and bowls were empty.
Only when there seemed no fresh fuel in sight and the vodka bottle had been drained would Varenkov push away from the table and call for dessert, usually a busty Nordic type female with a fondness for his crude jokes and rough sex. Sometimes, there would be two or three women instead of one, but these would invariably be olive-skinned or swarthy girls with black hair top and bottom.
At least once a week, Varenkov would vary his entertainment with a young male, tall and muscular, crude in appearance, and always Asian. With mundane routine, this latter performance would involve mild S & M, including handcuffs, a leather bit, and a bread paddle with holes drilled in it. At some point, the Asian would cuff Varenkov and threaten him with bit and paddle; the Russian would utter a ferocious growl, break free of his bonds, and dominate his willing partner. After several repetitions, the show would end in the draining of another bottle of expensive vodka.
Nigel wasn’t disturbed by his employer’s personal habits, and it didn’t bother him that Varenkov wanted him to remain in the cabin during the games as an observer. Since the incident off Tahiti and the Russian’s insistence that he’d nearly been ambushed by an intruder, Varenkov rarely entered any room, other than his private bathroom here aboard the
Anastasiya
without an armed guard present.
Three hours later, Nigel ushered the two Samoan girls out of the stateroom and up to the deck where a small boat from the
Anastasiya’
s companion yacht waited to take them back to the dock. He welcomed the fresh salt air and was undeterred by the slight drizzle of rain and the stiff breeze off the ocean. They were anchored in the Pago Pago harbor and even in the darkness he could make out the looming shapes of the surrounding mountains and the outlines of other boats around them.
Varenkov wouldn’t remain here long, but business had delayed him, business that would take them ashore in a few hours to meet a Mr. Smith, an accomplice in the trade. Pago Pago was a small town, little more than a village, with a population of less than 15,000, hardly a welcoming shelter for the likes of Varenkov. But American Samoa thrived on entertainment; there were high stakes gambling games and those who could satisfy all sorts of pleasures, if an interested party knew the right people and had the means to pay.

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