Lord of the Deep (22 page)

T
he strand was swarming with selkies when Gideon dropped Seth in a heap on the beach practically at Simeon’s feet. Simeon had dismounted. Behind, Elicorn pranced through the surf, frolicking in the high-curling comers, their white froth and spindrift tinted pink by the dawn as if all were well and selkies hadn’t just laid siege to the beach on the Isle of Mists.

All around, selkie males were shedding their skins. Some had come from the palace, others from as far off as the Pavilion at their prince’s command. Stunned by his unceremonious landing, Seth shook himself like a dog as he scrambled to his feet. Simeon gave the shaman only passing notice as he stalked toward Gideon like a man possessed.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

Gideon opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again at sight of Seth making a dash for the water’s edge and Elicorn prancing like a horse performing dressage steps in the creaming surf.

Following the direction the dark lord’s eyes had taken, Simeon made a lunge to follow, but Gideon’s firm hand on his forearm stopped him in his tracks.

Gideon shook a slow head. “Leave him,” he said. “Let the fates decide….”

Simeon stared after Seth. Other selkies started to converge upon the shaman, but Simeon stayed them with a raised hand. As dawn broke over the horizon in bloodred shimmer, he watched the waterhorse extend one leg and kneel with the other for the shaman to mount. Seth swung himself up anxiously, his robe spread wide on a wind that had risen to chase the mist. Elicorn reared, spun, and galloped into the high-rising curl of a fresh wave racing toward shore, then plunged deeper. The shaman’s death scream pierced the still air, then died off to a gurgling as the waterhorse dove one last time and disappeared beneath the waves.

Simeon turned to Gideon. “Is Megaleen in there?” he begged him.

Gideon nodded. “You will have to fetch her yourself.”

Simeon stared at the dark lord. “Why didn’t you bring her out instead?” he demanded.

“Evil must be dealt with first and foremost,” Gideon returned, his voice clipped and strained. “And you must fetch her yourself because she is no longer in the solarium, and my wings prohibit me from the rest of the place. Besides, I wash my hands of it.”

The dark lord’s handsome mouth had formed a hard, lipless line. He was clearly at the end of his tether. Rage smoldered just under the surface of Gideon’s strange expression. Aside from being a man of few words, the Lord of the Dark rarely showed emotion, stoicism being a major part of his mystique. Taken aback by the shocking look of him now, Simeon stared, deciding to force the issue; something he would never have done in ordinary circumstances.

“Why?” he blurted.

“Because she does not want to be fetched, and I must respect that.”

“You know that, do you?” Simeon seethed.

Gideon nodded. “I saw her quit the solarium myself, and she hasn’t come out, has she?”

“I must have her back, Gideon.”

The dark lord gave a crisp nod and unfurled his wings. “Then do,” he said. “But I’ll not have a hand in it. Unless I miss my guess, she’s trying to do right by you. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

“And she is?”

“Yes,” Gideon sallied. “But do not take my word, Lord of the Deep. Go! See for yourself.”

Simeon stared, stunned with astonishment. “You’re in love with her, too!” he breathed, discovery in his voice.

The dark lord smiled. It did not reach his eyes. “Blind as you are, you do see that, eh, Simeon? You are wasting time. Go if you’re going, but take care. You are rid of one enemy, but it’s far from over. There is another.”

With no more said, the dark lord lifted off and soared into the dawn, leaving Simeon staring after him but not for long. After a moment, Elicorn pranced back up on shore riderless, just as Simeon knew he would. Simeon motioned the others to follow as he approached the training hall. He would have Meg back at any cost. Gideon’s sage advice had fallen upon dead ears. Another enemy, indeed! As if he needed more. He shrugged that off and was just about to enter the hall with the others when Vega came running over one of the northern dunes.

Simeon pulled up short. Staring at his brother, righteous passion gave way to unstoppable rage. Where had Vega been? How could he have abandoned him when he needed him so desperately? Vega had scarcely reached him when Simeon drew back a white-knuckled fist and launched it, driving his brother down in the sand with a powerful blow to the jaw.

“Where have you been?” Simeon seethed. “I needed you!”

Vega shook his head and flexed his jaw, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. This had never happened before. In all the eons Simeon and Vega had been together, one had never raised a hand to the other.

Simeon stared down at his brother sprawled at his feet. He hadn’t just struck out at Vega; he’d delivered a blow against the entire circumstance. At Vega for the first time in his life not being there when he needed him. At Gideon—not for his infatuation with Meg; he knew the dark lord would never act upon it—but for always being right. Then there was Meg, for leaving him no matter how noble the reason. And most of all, he’d struck out at himself for not seeing this coming. Had his love for Meg blinded him to all else around him—had he lost her because of it?

He heaved a sigh and extended his hand to Vega. “By the gods, I never meant to do that,” he said, hauling his brother to his feet. “I’m half-mad with this. She just…vanished. You were gone, Pio disappeared…”

“She is here, on the Isle of Mists?” Vega said, ordering himself.

“Yes. The shaman Seth held her captive in the solarium at that accursed training hall. Gideon got him out of there and Elicorn made short work of him just now. The others are searching the hall for her as we speak. She will be frightened. I should be with them.”

“Then go,” Vega said flatly.

“What are you doing here?” Simeon asked him. The conversation was stilted and strained. He was wrong, and he was sorry he’d struck out at his brother. With all his heart, he wished he could take it back, but that could not be and discussing it then was futile. The look in Vega’s handsome eyes speared him like a trident. Hurt, anger, and disappointment lingered there, mirrored in the tense muscles ticking along that angular jawline.

“It can wait,” Vega said.

Simeon nodded, clapped Vega on the shoulder, and moved past him to enter the hall. It was too awkward then, and his mind was too full of Meg to do his brother justice. He would not be sane again until he held her in his arms, until he’d settled what lay between them however needs must.

Even though Gideon said he’d seen Meg fleeing the solarium, it was the first place Simeon wanted to look. Bounding up the staircase, he reached it ahead of the others and pulled up short on the threshold. The room was a riot of glass; sunlight streaming through the gaping hole in the glass ceiling bounced off hundreds of glass shards peppering the floor. There was no sign of Meg, though a trail of blood, where she’d evidently cut her feet on the broken glass led out into the hallway. His heart in his throat, he followed it below stairs through the servants’ quarters to the kitchen.

Calling her name at the top of his voice, Simeon followed the bloody footprints to the wood box beside the vacant hearth. It was large enough to hold her. There was blood on the edge of it, and on some of the wood inside, which he began tossing over his shoulder in a mad frenzy. He had soon emptied it, and his heart sank as he ran his hands over the bottom of the box. But it was no use. The wood box was empty.

Desperately, Simeon searched the kitchen floor for more tracks, but there were none. Though the blood was still wet on the wood box, Megaleen had vanished.

The sun was high, and Meg had scrambled over the sand to the north side of the island before casting off the strips she’d torn from the hem of her kirtle to bind her cut feet. It hadn’t been safe in the wood box. The trail of blood she’d left behind led right to it. Once she’d realized that, she’d bound them before making her escape so there would be no footprints leading away from the novices’ hall.

Still, she was out in the open. The Isle was barren of vegetation but for beach grass. There were cottages, like Adelia’s, but the ones she passed seemed vacant now. Evacuations were common in storms. Many islanders fled to the mainland during such storms as the selkie maelstrom that had just ravaged the archipelago. She would find no shelter there.

Though the sun had burned off the mist along the strand, there was one stubborn patch in the north where dense vapors still lingered. Deeming that hollow safer than trying to hide in the open dunes, she limped toward it, wishing she could find a tidal pool to bathe her sore feet in, preferably not the one filled with pinching crabs Seth had described.

Meg hesitated at the edge of the mist pocket. There was something Otherworldly about it. For one thing, the wind that had risen chasing the rest of the mist did not blow there. She had never seen the like. For another, there was no logical explanation for the mist to even be there that far from the strand. She tugged the cloak she’d found in one of the servant’s rooms as she’d fled closer around her. She was cold suddenly, though the day dawned warm. She had no choice. The island was swarming with selkie males. Simeon was among them. She’d come this far trying to set him free; she wasn’t about to fail now.

She’d also taken a cloth market bag from the kitchen. It held the whalebone phallus in its coral coffer and some bread and cheese she’d found, but she wasn’t hungry. How could she eat when her stomach was tied in knots for fear Simeon would find her? How could she think of food, when, despite her resolve, part of her was praying he would?

Shouts echoed in the distance. Meg held her breath and stepped into the mist. To her surprise, an abbeylike building emerged from it, parting the swirling vapors. This she had not seen before on her solitary walks, but then she’d rarely come this far north. She hesitated. Suppose the selkies were to enter the mist as well. She approached the door, her hand raised to knock. But what kind of place was this? Suppose there were more shamans inside.

The shouts from behind came again. They were closer now, and she knocked at the door. Her knuckles had hardly touched the panel when it came open in the hand of a rotund teary-eyed woman garbed in white.

“You’d best hurry if you want to pay your respects,” the woman said, standing aside to let Meg enter. “They have already prepared the grave, and she must be buried before the heat of the day.”

Meg had no idea what the woman was talking about, but at least she was inside, out of the selkie’s view, and she followed her along the corridor to a room where a bier had been arranged between two tall candle stands fitted with white candles. Others likewise robed in white were grouped around the bier.

“Oh! Too late,” Meg’s guide said. “They are taking her now….”

Shocked that there were no men, only older women hefting the coffin, Meg gasped. “Have you no men folk to do this work?” she asked.

The woman cast Meg a glance as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. “
Men folk?
” she blurted. “No men folk here—not even the shamans have access to the nunnery. We are a women’s spiritual house, my dear. No men are allowed.”

“Eh…o-oh,” Meg said awkwardly. She had never heard of a nunnery on the Isle of Mists. It was passing strange and very mystical. Something very Otherworldly was happening, but it had abetted her escape, and she held her peace.

Meg winced when the women, six in all, lifted the coffin and started toward the door. The woman inside the plain wooden casket was robed in white—at least Meg presumed it to be a woman. The body was so emaciated it was little more than a skeleton seemingly held together by naught but gray dust. A thin veil covered the face of the corpse, but it was no denser than a morning cobweb spangled with dew, and every line, every sunken cavity, was visible through it.

Meg’s hand flew to her lips. “What was it…plague?” she murmured.

“Oh no,” the other said. The pallbearer sisters had reached them, and the woman flattened Meg against the wall in the narrow corridor to let them pass. She motioned the others to stop so Meg could pay her respects before they passed. “How are you related to Sister Glenda?”

“O…oh, we are…we’re not related,” Meg stammered. “I am come…on another matter.”

The woman motioned the others to move on and turned back to Meg. “It’s just as well,” she said. “You’ve gone as white as the mist of a sudden. Sit you down and wait. I shall return presently.”

She turned to go, and Meg halted her with a word. “Wait!” she said. “H-how did that woman die…You didn’t say…?”

The woman hesitated. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling it,” she said. “You wouldn’t have gotten in here if you weren’t pure of heart and meant us no harm. The doors are never locked you see, they needn’t be. The gods protect us. Only good may enter here”—she leaned close, whispering, and winked—“that’s why the shamans cannot.”

Meg smiled, and the woman patted her arm, discovering her marketing bag. “Can I take that sack for you?” she said. “It looks heavy.”

“No!” Meg cried, a little too loudly. “It isn’t heavy, really, I can manage.” It wouldn’t do to have a holy woman discover the phallus.

“As you wish,” the woman said. “I’ll have to tell it quickly. They’ll need me, you know, to say the words. Glenda was a dear, dear friend…She was the last of her kind, born during the great cataclysm that formed the Arcan Archipelago—”

“But that was—”

“Eons ago, I know, when the great storms ravaged the mainland and formed the Isles of Arcus.”

“Was she a sea creature, then, that she could live so long?”

“Oh no,” the woman said. “She was human, like the rest of us here—like yourself—but she was special.”

“I do not understand. If she possessed the power to live for eons…how did she die?”

The woman’s face clouded. “She gave it up, her immortality. Some say it was suicide, but I know different.” She leaned closer. “Rumor has it…she gave it to another….” Laying a finger over her lips, the woman toddled off then, before Meg could ask her how that could possibly be, and disappeared around a bend in the corridor. It was a strange encounter to be sure, but there wasn’t time to analyze it.