Blood of a Mermaid

www.crescentmoonpress.com

Blood of a Mermaid
Katie O’Sullivan

ISBN:
978-1-939173-84-3
E-ISBN: 978-1-939173-85-0

© Copyright Katie O’Sullivan 2014. All rights reserved

Cover Art: Jeannie Ruesch
Editor: Kathryn Steves
Layout/Typesetting: jimandzetta.com

Crescent Moon Press

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Box 269

Middletown, NJ 07748

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All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Crescent Moon Press electronic publication/print publication: May 2014
www.crescentmoonpress.com

For Mom and Dad.

For all of your help and encouragement, in my writing and in life, and for introducing me to the wonders of the Atlantic Ocean, so many years ago.

Zan shivered as he felt his way along the uneven walls of stone, the cave as cold and black as a cloud of octopus ink. The message he’d received had been cryptic, but he was pretty sure he was in the right place. “Right” being an extremely relative concept.

His eyes widened to their limits as he tried to see beyond the blackness of the murky Arctic cavern, but to no avail.
So much about this journey is wrong
. Zan flicked his tail and quickened his pace, thinking bitterly of the last year, doubting the path he’d chosen to swim. Or rather, the one he felt forced to choose. Choice was not a luxury afforded to one in his position.

He exhaled heavily in the darkness as the tunnel led him downward, releasing the pressure building in his ears and feeling the bubbles stream from the gill slits underneath his now shaggy hair. He no longer looked the part of an Adluo soldier with his unkempt appearance; a beard had even begun to sprout from his chin, matching the seaweed colored hair billowing around his ears. His altered looks helped him blend as he passed through the small villages that dotted the floor of the Atlantic on his way north to this rendezvous point.

In the span of a few short weeks, he’d gone from
hunter
to
hunted
. His eyes still straining against the darkness, Zan’s mind wandered, thinking how close he and his comrades had been to accomplishing their mission and taking over the whole of the Atlantic.

After years of brutal and bloody battles, the Southern and Atlantic Oceans had finally come to an agreement. The end of war had been on the horizon, almost within reach, when he and the other Adluos had made their way to Nantucket Sound for the final negotiations.

The oceans were now finally at peace with one another. But Zan was no longer a part of that peace.

He was an outlaw.

Zan had fled Nantucket Sound. He knew he’d been lucky to escape with his life, after being part of the plot to poison the Atlantic king at the Solstice Banquet. Assassination is not something ever taken lightly in the courts of Atlantis.

It was only later he’d learned the rest of the details from that Solstice evening. Demyan had somehow confessed to poisoning the rightful Adluo heir, the young king to whom he’d been regent, as well as confessing to killing the boy’s parents, the Southern king and queen. Princess Brynneliana’s drylander son had transformed into a merman and miraculously appeared at the summer palace, bearing the Mark of Poseidon on his back and saving King Koios. Demyan had fled, killing the High Chancellor of Atlantis in his haste.

Zan remembered that fateful day, which now seemed so long ago, soon after he’d returned from his years studying in Atlantis. He’d been there when Demyan had slaughtered the Southern king and queen, becoming regent for his young cousin, the newly crowned King Theosisto.

At the time, Zan thought ruling one ocean would be enough to sate Demyan’s thirst for power. He didn’t understand the merman’s need for ultimate dominance, or his drive for revenge against King Koios, whom he blamed for the death of his father. Zan soon found the regent’s ambitions had stretched well beyond the borders of both his limited role and his own clan’s territory.

Demyan wanted to claim the bounties of the Atlantic Ocean, and decided a marriage to the beautiful Atlantic princess would legitimize him as a ruler. Many merman lives had been lost in the relentless pursuit of Demyan’s twisted dreams.

So why was Zan here? He shook his head in the darkness, trying to dispel his doubts. Why risk the potential for a quiet life in one of the small Atlantic villages he’d passed through, where he could quietly raise crops and find a mate? Why was he now on the outer edge of the Arctic Ocean in these dark, subterranean tunnels?

The answer was both simple and complex. Zan knew he owed Demyan his life. It was Demyan who’d first noticed his innate magical abilities and saved Zan from a life in the dolphin stables – or worse – sending him off to be trained under the Atlantean masters of the Arcane Arts. Now seventeen, Zan knew that while he was still a mere fry in the eyes of the elders, his magick was impressive, so strong that at times he still feared it might control him again rather than the other way around. If not for the masters at the University, the magick would certainly win.

Zan owed Demyan his life. Their fates were inextricably tied together.

When the messenger arrived at the last village where he’d been hiding, summoning him to this meeting, Zan knew he had no choice. There was not a doubt in his mind. Which frightened him, and not only because Demyan knew exactly where to find him.

To Zan, the message meant either Demyan had gone completely insane with delusions of new powers, or had succeeded in amassing a fresh army to continue his ongoing quest for underwater domination.
Either way, it wouldn’t have been prudent – or safe – to ignore the summons.

Up ahead in the blackness of the tunnel, Zan’s eyes finally focused on a speck of glowing green.
A lantern! Finally!
He felt his heart begin to pound, knowing each flick of his tail brought him closer to Demyan. Closer to either his own death, or his redemption. He would soon find out which.

Emerging from the darkness, Zan entered a high-ceilinged cavern carved from the white marble rock. Lanterns glowing with luminescent sea creatures studded the walls at regular intervals. He raised one hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness, looking around for signs of life. No one was present.

Slabs of white and off-white marble lined the rocky floor in a checkerboard pattern, reflecting the green light and making the room almost unbearably bright after the prolonged darkness of the tunnels. At the center of the chamber stood a tall, rounded table, also made of white marble, with twelve empty chairs surrounding it.

“Hello?” Zan heard his voice echo hollowly from the rocky walls. “Is anyone here?” He waited silently. No one answered.

Exhaling his frustration, Zan moved forward cautiously, his eyes darting around the bright chamber. As he approached the table, he noticed that two places had been set as if for a meal, one on either side of the large circle. Facing each other.

“Hello?” Zan called again. A small mermaid with dark blue skin and long flowing hair that matched the color of the marble table emerged from a doorway on the opposite side of the chamber. In her hands a gleaming silver tray with a single clear bowl in the center caught the light, reflecting it around the room in broken prisms. As she placed the bowl in the middle of the table, a shiver ran down Zan’s spine. The bowl was filled with small bluish-green berries, native only to the area around the Fiji Islands in the Pacific Ocean. Eucheuma seeds.

“Zan! You got my message!” Demyan’s booming voice filled the entire cavern as the merman himself swam into the room. He stopped in front of Zan, folding his arms across his wide chest as the two mermen stared at each other. “You look like hell,” he said with a wry smile. “What’s with the long hair…and what’s that growing on your chin? Is it mold? Great Neptune’s ghost, you look awful, Zan!”

Zan found his voice. “Thank you, my Lord.” He knew he looked frightful. He’d been swimming full out since receiving the summons two days before, without stopping to eat or rest. He was used to the physical exertion, but the stress of the situation had certainly taken its toll.

Demyan, on the other hand, looked exactly the same as he had the last time Zan had seen him, that dark Summer Solstice day when he’d almost accomplished his goal of taking over the Atlantic. How was such a thing possible? Zan opened his mouth to ask, then closed it again without saying a word. Such questions were not prudent to ask, no matter how much the other merman smiled or joked. His was the smile of a sea snake, widening its mouth for the kill.

“But come, you must be famished.” Demyan gestured toward the waiting table. “Let’s have a seat. Rest. Eat. There is much to be discussed as to my return.”

“Your…return?” Zan said, his voice breaking roughly. “You’re coming back to the Southern Ocean?”

Demyan laughed, his black eyes glittering coldly. “Hades help me, no. Brynn and her whelp are welcome to that barren wasteland.” Zan stared as Demyan reached across and took a handful of Eucheuma berries from the bowl. He popped them into his mouth one by one as he continued. “No, the Southern Ocean isn’t for me, Zan. It’s so…limiting. I’ve recently developed a more global perspective, setting my sights on something bigger.”

“Bigger?” Zan squirmed on the cold marble seat. “You mean like the whole Atlantic Ocean?”

“I mean all of it. The world.” He pushed the bowl of seeds closer to Zan. “Have something to eat, Zan, and I’ll explain my vision for the future. Our future.”

“Our future?” Zan repeated, feeling like an echo. “You…need my help?”

“Need is such a relative and transient term.” The gleam had returned to Demyan’s black eyes. “I prefer to think of this as me offering you a position, but really more than that. I’m offering you a place in history! History that has yet to be written, but will be spoken of and remembered for centuries to come. Join me, Zan, and help me make my visions into reality.”

“Are you offering me a choice?”

“No. Not really,” Demyan conceded. “I’m sorry if you don’t feel up to the task of making history with me. You were always a good strategic thinker, Zan, a good second in command for someone so young, as well as a truly powerful magician. But everyone can be replaced.” Demyan inclined his head to one side, his eyes shifting to something behind Zan.

Quickly, without turning around, Zan cried, “I accept your offer!”